


Like Fire

by vickjawn (awshitzombies)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Biting, Consent Issues, F/F, Foster Parents, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Prostitution, Rentboy McCree, Rimming, Sex Toys, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8595349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awshitzombies/pseuds/vickjawn
Summary: Hanzo is a stressed-out, socially-awkward architect. To help his brother unwind, Genji buys him time with Jesse McCree.





	1. Chapter 1

“Howdy,” the tall, broad man standing on Hanzo’s doorstep said as he tilted a weathered cowboy hat in his direction. “Jesse McCree at your service.”

Hanzo stared at the man, momentarily confused as to why he - for the first time since he bought his house - had a stranger standing on his doorstep, until suddenly he recalled a conversation he had with his brother several days ago. The subject, as per usual, had been his stress level thanks to his successful yet demanding job and how he needed to find some way to relax during his downtime.

“You need something other than fish,” Genji had told him flatly. “Something with a pulse that you can actually talk to and touch.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my fish,” Hanzo had uttered, frowning down at his sake. He loved his koi pond. But he knew Genji was right - he needed something more palpable as a means of relaxing.

“I can help you out,” Genji had offered, flashing that charming, slightly sneaky grin of his. “I know a few places. I’ll hook you up.”

Despite his initial weariness, Hanzo had trusted him - and _this_ is what Genji delivered? A huge man masquerading as a cowboy of all things? _My brother doesn’t know me at all_ , Hanzo found himself thinking now, only slightly stung and majorly insulted.

Hanzo’s silence and intense stare made the man’s smile slip. “Hanzo Shimada? This is the right place, ain’t it?” he asked, fumbling for his phone.

“Yes,” Hanzo said.

The man blinked at him, let his phone slip back into his coat pocket. “Aw’right.” He cleared his throat, then flashed him the same disarming grin he’d been wielding when Hanzo had opened the door. “You gonna let me in, or are we gonna get down and dirty on the porch?”

Steadily growing more and more mortified, Hanzo swiftly stepped aside and let McCree in. The man gave an appreciative whistle at the place’s interior, which briefly put Hanzo at ease. He was quite proud of the house he designed for himself, even if it was too big for one man to live in by his lonesome.

“Did they explain the terms to you over the phone?” McCree asked as Hanzo led him into the living room.

“I - no. My brother is the one who called for your services.”

McCree’s grin widened a tick. “Awful nice of him,” he said. “Birthday present?”

“No.” Hanzo frowned a little, unsure of why the man was even interested. He was awfully chatty for a sex worker. “I work strenuous hours and lack a means of unwinding.”

McCree nodded in understanding. Being so close to the city, he probably dealt with a lot of stressed businessmen. “So here I am,” he said.

“Here you are,” Hanzo agreed awkwardly.

McCree took a moment to size him up. Hanzo wondered what he was thinking. He was by no means out of shape, though he was sure it was hard to tell from his plain white button up shirt and slacks. For a fleeting moment he thought about trying to subtly flex, knowing that his shirt sleeves would protest the movement, but McCree continued before he got the chance to show off.

“Anyway, the terms: no marks, no barebackin’, no kissin’ on the mouth, and if I say stop, you stop. Got it?”

Hanzo blinked. It took him a moment to register the fact that this was a Thing that was really about to happen. There was really a male prostitute in his house who was really about to have sex with him. “Got it,” he echoed, lightheaded.

“Good.” McCree shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a thin red and white flannel shirt beneath, and laid it over the arm of the couch. When he turned back to Hanzo, his eyes were dark, his expression describable as ‘hungry.’ “Well, then, darlin’. Shall we get started?”

“Uh,” Hanzo said.

McCree stepped into his personal space easily, almost like he was meant to be there, and placed a large hand on Hanzo’s chest right below his collarbone. Hanzo could smell the cologne the man had on - something spicy and warm, like cinnamon and smoke.

Slowly, McCree leaned down and kissed the side of Hanzo’s neck. His lips were warm and dry, but he remedied this by lashing his tongue out against Hanzo’s skin. It sent a bolt of want down Hanzo’s spine powerful enough to make him stiffen and shudder. It had been so long since he’d felt anything remotely close to sexual pleasure that wasn’t from his own hand. It was almost immediately overwhelming.

“I haven’t,” he choked out, pushing McCree back a few inches, “done this. In a while.”

“The whore thing or the sex thing?”

“The sex thing.” Hanzo blinked up at him, half-lidded eyes on the other man’s slightly swollen, shiny lips. “I’ve never - you are my first, um, hired...help…”

McCree’s grin widened as a guffaw rumbled out of him. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’,” he said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Wanna keep things simple?”

Hanzo nodded, feeling more than relieved. Perhaps Genji had been wise to pick this man for him after all.

They moved to the bedroom down the hall, slowly disrobing as they went. McCree kept touching him the whole while, kept fanning that fire steadily growing inside him. They made it to the large bed in the center of the room and sat down, still pawing at each other in a half-assed attempt for dominance.

When McCree finally rid Hanzo of his shirt, he let out an appreciative noise at what he found, which made Hanzo preen. McCree paused to run his fingers over the intricate details of the spiraling tattoo that covered his left arm and pec. “Fancy,” he cooed, seemingly truly impressed by it. “Got some ink of my own, but nothin’ as detailed as this, damn.”

Hanzo had already seen the faded skull tattoo on McCree’s left forearm - crude and probably done in someone’s basement, he’d thought at the time. Now, though, he choked out an awkward thanks, mostly because he was distracted by the feeling of McCree’s hands on his bare flesh. The touch awoke something inside him, something hot and hungry; the need to satisfy it became impossible to ignore.

He started ripping at McCree’s shirt, snarling at him to take it off. The man eagerly obliged, grinning as he shrugged out of the flannel and all but tore off his undershirt. McCree wasn’t in fantastic shape - soft around his hips and stomach and almost obnoxiously hairy - but Hanzo’s mouth watered nonetheless, eager to get a bite of him.

So that’s what he did - as soon as McCree’s chest was bared, Hanzo leaned down and sank his teeth into the skin by his collarbone hard enough to leave faint indents behind. He ran his tongue against the skin there, soothing the wound and tasting the man for the first time.

McCree hissed but didn’t move away. “You look like a biter,” he mused.

“Do I?”

“Mm. You work in this business long enough, you start bein’ able to read people.” McCree shrugged, dragged his lips over Hanzo’s neck. “Every now and then, though, I’m surprised by somethin’. What d’ya say, Mr. Shimada? You got any surprises?”

As he spoke, his hands moved to the zipper on Hanzo’s pants. Hanzo willingly lifted his hips to help speed the process along, and soon enough he was as naked as the day he was born and being assessed by hungry, sweeping eyes.

McCree rumbled like a car engine in appreciation. “No surprises here,” he murmured, scooting down the bed so he could lay between Hanzo’s quivering thighs. “I knew you’d have a mighty fine cock waitin’ for me.”

He was average for a man of his height and build, Hanzo knew, and yet he couldn’t keep the bright red flush from overtaking his cheeks and the tips of his ears. No one had ever complimented his _dick_ before.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbled, lifting one hand to cover half of his heated face.

“What, can’t take a compliment? Every inch of you is gorgeous, darlin’. You have no idea how relieved I was when you opened the door. Most businessmen I deal with are old dumpy white guys.”

“I’m sure you say that to all your clients.”

“Some,” McCree admitted, “but you’re the first one I ain’t lyin’ to.”

Hanzo nearly believed him.

McCree leaned his cheek against Hanzo’s thigh and looked up at him from beneath his thick lashes. “How you wanna do this?” he purred. “I could keep it simple with a blowjob. I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

He winked, making Hanzo roll his eyes and smirk. “I suppose I should be the judge of that,” he agreed, spreading his legs so that the cowboy could settle between them.

McCree hummed, pleased, and wasted little time in getting to work. He handled Hanzo’s cock gently, his touch feather-light as he rolled the condom on. He took another minute of simply observing it, of holding the base of it in his grip and giving it a few light pumps, like he was getting a feel for it.

Then he dove in, swallowing Hanzo’s length in one elegant bob of his head. Hanzo choked on his own breath as one of his hands lashed out to tangle in McCree’s hair. His grip was harsh for a moment as he was caught off guard, but he recovered his senses enough to loosen his fingers and stutter out an apology.

McCree just smirked and pulled off his cock long enough to rasp, “S’all right, darlin’. I like it a lil’ rough.”

Hanzo bit his lip and shut his eyes as McCree got back to work, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks and lashing his tongue just right against him. One of the cowboy’s hands left Hanzo’s hips to snag his hand and place it back on his head. He flashed a wink, and Hanzo couldn’t believe that he somehow made it look alluring even when his mouth was stuffed full of cock.

Hanzo’s orgasm was suddenly upon him far too quickly for his liking, but there wasn’t much he could do besides warn McCree that he was coming. He expected the cowboy to pull away, but instead the man hummed, deep and eager, and took him all the way down one last time.

Hanzo came with a strangled curse. McCree would have taken it all if not for the condom, a fact that Hanzo was all too aware of - or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Either way, the mere idea of it was enough to rocket him straight into the heavens where he rode out the rest of what was probably one of the best orgasms of his life.

Eventually he came back into his body and chanced a glance down at the man between his legs. McCree blinked hazily back at him from where he'd lain his head on Hanzo's thigh, his lips swollen and glistening, and Hanzo felt his cock give a valiant twitch. At his age, a round two so soon after climaxing was unprecedented, and yet the beast inside him was not sated.

With a near-animalistic noise, he flipped their positions, sending the cowboy grunting into the pillows. “Your turn,” Hanzo growled, reaching for McCree’s pants. The poor zipper was straining under the pressure, which was pleasing in and of itself.

McCree looked stunned for a moment, like he wasn’t used to his clients reciprocating, before a lazy grin stretched across his face. “Well, shoot, darlin’,” he crooned, folding his arms behind his head. “Don’t let me stop you. Spare condom's in my pants pocket.”

With trembling hands, Hanzo fished the foil packed out and returned to the bed to undo McCree's ridiculous belt - BAMF? Seriously? It didn’t shock him that the man was going commando - no, what utterly took him off guard was the massive surprise waiting for him upon yanking the man’s pants down.

Hanzo stared at the behemoth nestled in the curls of McCree’s crotch. “Is this enhanced?”

McCree picked his head up. “Huh?”

“This cannot be natural,” Hanzo muttered, reaching out to take McCree’s cock by the base. It was firm and warm in his grasp, and thick, like the rest of McCree. It was also a terrifying nine and a half inches, give or take. Impressive, but good god.

McCree’s lazy grin widened as he folded his arms behind his head. “All natural,” he assured him. “And all yours, darlin’.”

“Hm.”

Hanzo settled between McCree’s legs and rolled the condom on his cock. He couldn’t stop staring at it, at the flushed tip and the large vein running up the side of it. It made his mouth water. He wished he could taste it without the condom in the way.

“You gonna stare at it all night or are you gonna touch me?” McCree asked, only slightly breathless as he sent his client a half-assed glare. Frustration was a good look on him, Hanzo mused, smirking.

“Patience,” he murmured, bringing McCree’s cock to his lips, just enough that he could feel his hot breath skating across the flushed tip. The masculine scent made Hanzo’s head spin pleasantly.

There was no way Hanzo would be able to take all of it, so he did what he could, sucking on the head of it while his hands pumped the shaft in time with his bobbing head. McCree appreciated it, judging by the noises rumbling out of him.

As he worked, Hanzo started to explore the other man, moving one hand to fondle his balls. McCree’s breathing hitched as he automatically spread his legs. Taking that as an open invitation, Hanzo’s hand went lower, testing and teasing the skin he found there. He rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over McCree’s hole, pressing only the slightest bit, waiting to hear if McCree told him to stop.

The noise that McCree made went straight to Hanzo’s cock. “Fuck me,” the cowboy groaned, pressing his hips down on Hanzo’s hand.

And Hanzo, stupid with lust, muttered out a husky reply, “Maybe next time.”

McCree cursed again, thrashed hard enough to almost dislodge Hanzo from his crotch, and uttered out a wheezy, “‘M gonna come, darlin’, please.”

Hanzo scooted up the bed until he was lying alongside McCree, his hand still frantically pumping the other man’s cock. McCree choked and gasped and writhed as he came, and Hanzo, so enraptured by the sight, leaned over to kiss him, swallowing those delicious noises.

It might have just been his wishful thinking, but he was pretty sure that the cowboy kissed him back.

Reality returned to him far too quickly. Hanzo reared back, mortified. “I-I’m sorry,” he babbled, “I forgot the no kissing rule.”

To his relief, McCree just chuckled. “S’all right, darlin’, most first-timers usually do,” he assured him as he pulled off the used condom and threw it in the trash with Hanzo's. He glanced at Hanzo’s lips. “For you, I think I’ll let it slide.”

“Thank you.”

McCree’s smirk widened as he flopped back onto the pillows. “You’re a strange fella, y’know that?”

“You say this now, after already having sex with this ‘strange fella’?”

“All in a day’s work.”

He sounded a little bitter about it, Hanzo realized. He assumed some sex workers only did what they did because they were beyond desperate for money. A part of him wondered if McCree was in that same boat or if there was another reason why he was selling himself.

He very nearly opened his mouth to ask before common sense smacked him upside the head. It was none of his business. “Would you like some water?” Hanzo asked him instead.

McCree’s face scrunched up with caution. “Sure,” he said anyway. “Thanks.”

Hanzo fetched them both a glass of water from the filter in the fridge, then hurried back to the bedroom just in time to see McCree finish redressing. “You are leaving?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

McCree nodded. “Stay until the customer is satisfied,” he recited, expression carefully blank. “Unless you’re willin’ to pay for a round two, I think we’re done here.”

McCree accepted the glass of water and chugged it gratefully, then departed with a tip of his cowboy hat and a faint smile that almost reached his eyes.

Hanzo went to bed that night, cold and strangely unsatisfied despite having what had been the best sex of his life. He realized later that, out of everything he and McCree had done, Hanzo had enjoyed simply having someone lying next to him the most.

* * *

As soon as McCree heard the door shut behind him, the smile slipped off his face and his usual sullen expression settled. All at once his shoulders sagged with the drop he almost always felt after dealing with a client, but, as he turned to glance back at the face of the nice house he’d just been in and caught Hanzo staring at him out the front window, the sensation faded a little.

Hanzo ducked his head, probably embarrassed at being caught, and offered him an awkward goodbye wave. McCree smiled and returned the wave. Surprisingly, the reaction didn’t feel forced.

Okay, so it hadn’t been all bad, he reasoned, starting to whistle as he made his way down the block towards the bus stop. At least he’d been allowed to finish this time.

He made it back to the bar around closing time. Most of their usual clientele were gone save for a few stragglers still oggling the lone dancer on the pole in the back of the room. McCree ignored all of them and made himself a whiskey on the rocks to help him get to sleep later on.

“Well?” his boss - a massive tattooed dude that McCree knew only as Bogdan - rumbled as he made his way over to him. “How was the new guy? You think he’ll call for ya again?”

McCree shrugged. “Hard to tell,” he drawled. Setting aside the fact that it had been the man’s brother who hooked him up, the guy didn’t seem like he went out much aside from going to work. Still, McCree knew the look of a lonely man. There was a chance he might return for more.

One thing was for certain - Hanzo was sure as hell a lot more fun than the usual folks who booked him. Awkward, yes, but at least he was eager to please McCree in turn. He didn’t get a lot of those and tended to cherish the clients that returned the favor.

“That Rutledge guy booked ya for Friday,” Bogdan told him, instantly shattering his good thoughts to pieces. “It’s been a while, so ya better gear up for a good time.”

McCree downed the rest of his whiskey as his boss cackled at his misfortune.

An hour later, McCree stumbled home, nowhere near drunk enough to forget about his worries but at least he was probably tired enough to pass out without having to take something this time. Ana always gave him shit for raiding her stash.

Speak of the devil - Ana met him in the kitchen as he was hanging up his coat. “Welcome home,” she told him, scaring the piss out of him.

“ _Ma_ ,” he hissed, frowning at her. “It’s late.”

“It is,” she agreed, moving to hug him. She pulled back almost immediately, her nose wrinkling up with disgust. “You reek.”

“I do work at a bar.”

She huffed but didn’t try to argue. “Wash up and get some sleep,” she told him. “Will we see you in the morning or do you have a shift?”

He had a client at nine, but he could still probably make breakfast with the family. He’d functioned on less than three hours of sleep before. “I’ll be there,” he told her, smiling. “Bright and early?”

Ana chuckled and turned to shuffle back upstairs to bed. “We’ll see about that. Goodnight, habibi.”

He watched her go, trying to mentally ward off the cold creeping in on his bones. “Night, Ma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, y'all, this is the dirtiest fic I've ever written (sorry, ma) so I hope y'all can enjoy it! Please consider leaving a kudos or a review to let me know if you do. ;v; 
> 
> Some quick notes:  
> \- In this AU, Genji is human (think Young Sparrow skin) and he and Hanzo are on relatively good terms because he never tried to kill him, ha.  
> \- The Genji/McCree is not explicit and is only mentioned.  
> \- The consent issues tag is because while McCree is selling himself of his own free will (aka nobody forced him to take up this job specifically), he doesn’t much enjoy it half the time. The only explicit sex is between Hanzo and McCree (which he does enjoy lol).
> 
> As always, if you think something should be tagged and I missed it, don't hesitate to let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Every Tuesday Hanzo met with his brother for lunch a few blocks from his office. The second he strolled into the little cafe Genji had chosen and spotted his brother in one of the booths lining the wall, Hanzo knew he was going to be insufferable. The shit-eating grin on his face spoke volumes.

“You look energized today,” he commented as soon as Hanzo was within earshot. The impish grin widened. “How was your weekend?”

“Eventful,” Hanzo muttered, earning a cackle from his brother. “Thanks to you.”

“What,” Genji asked through a mouthful of cheese fries, “did you not think I’d go through with it?”

Hanzo scoffed and wrinkled his nose, both at his brother’s lack of manners and the fact that he was eating cheese fries for lunch yet again. “I know you keep your word,” he said. “How much did it cost you?”

Genji waved him off. “No price tag on my brother’s happiness,” he said. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Was he not to your liking?”

“He was…” Hanzo thought about the stupid cowboy hat, the somewhat-endearing drawl, the endearing way his face scrunched up when he came. “Something.”

Genji snickered. “Money well-spent,” he confirmed.

Conversation drifted to other things as Hanzo ordered his own lunch and began to chow down. It was only after they’d polished off their meals and Genji was working on his milkshake dessert that Hanzo decided, what the hell.

“What, um.” Hanzo cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What is the name of the place?”

It took Genji a moment to figure out what Hanzo meant. He went completely rigid with the milkshake straw halfway to his gaping mouth. Hanzo glanced away as his face turned red, fully expecting Genji to burst out laughing at his pathetic brother.

Instead, once Genji finally came back online, his face was entirely too solemn for Hanzo’s liking. “Brother,” Genji began seriously, “a whore is nice every once in awhile when you’re too stressed out to go bar hopping, but you shouldn’t make it a habit. For one thing, they’re expensive.”

“So you did spend too much on one.”

“That’s not the issue here.” Genji sat back and folded his arms across his chest the way their father used to when they were younger and about to be lectured. Hanzo blinked away the image. “You pay them to pretend to like you. That’s all. They make you feel good and wanted, and then they take your money and leave.”

“I am well aware of this,” Hanzo gritted out. “I’m not foolish, Genji, nor do I appreciate being lectured by you on something you do on a regular basis.”

“Exactly, it means I know what I’m talking about - ”

“Regardless,” Hanzo went on sharply, “on the very likely chance I am ‘too stressed out’ to go find someone, I would like to know the name of the place to call.”

Genji sighed, then threw his hands up in defeat. “Deadlock Saloon. Your guy works there - or so I assume.”

Hanzo blinked. “You assume?”

“The place is shady as shit. Can’t stand most of the folks that hang out there, but a few of their, ah, employees are decent at what you hire them to do.” He shrugged. “I’ll text you the number.”

“Thank you.”

Genji hummed, then that impish sneer was back on his face. “He was that good, huh?” he asked, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

Hanzo threw his half of the bill at him.

* * *

McCree was thirty seconds away from crashing for the night when his phone began to buzz with an incoming call. His first instinct was to ignore it - he knew who it was and why they were calling - but common sense roused him and forced him to answer.

“Got you another client,” Bogdan told him without so much as a hello. Before McCree could bitch at him for lining up yet another one when he was already beat, Bogdan continued with, “It’s that Asian guy again. Guess you were too good to resist.”

McCree’s mood brightened ever so slightly as he sat up in bed. “Right now?”

“Gave you two hours to clean yourself up and get over there. You’re spendin’ the night, so pack a toothbrush.”

That sent McCree’s mood plummeting again. “Oh, swell, I don’t need sleep anyway,” he snapped, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve got a client first thing in the morning - oh, wait, I do.”

“Hey, I ain’t keepin’ you from canceling one of ‘em. It’s not like you owe me money or anything - oh, wait, you do.”

McCree cringed. “Fuck you,” he muttered, then hung up before Bogdan could make a predictably snarky reply.

Resigned, he showered, dressed, and made his way downstairs. Jack, probably suffering from another bout of insomnia, was sitting at the kitchen table reading today’s newspaper and glanced up when he saw him don his coat and grab his keys.

“Everything all right?” he asked, lowering the paper to squint at him. Old bastard wasn’t wearing his glasses again. “Where are you going? You just got in.”

“Bar’s shorthanded again,” McCree said. “Told ‘em I’d fill in for the night. I’ll probably stay with someone, so don’t wait up. Tell Ana and Gabe where I’m at, alright?”

Jack’s frown deepened as he uttered a reluctant affirmation. McCree hurried out the door before he could try to guilt-trip him into staying.

Two bus rides later, he was strolling up Hanzo’s front steps for the second time in eight days. He hadn’t really expected the man to book him again so soon, but he wouldn’t deny that he was kind of excited about it. Hanzo was by far one of his more attractive clients, and his awkwardness had been pretty endearing. If McCree had to spend the night with someone, Hanzo would probably be his top pick.

The man answered the door looking frazzled, but it didn’t keep a small smile from flashing across his handsome face. “Hello,” he greeted a little breathlessly, like he’d been running around trying to get ready. The fact that he’d messed up buttoning his plain white shirt was also a pretty good indicator.

McCree tilted his hat at him in greeting, only half slipping into his persona. He didn’t have to pretend too much with Hanzo. “Well,” he said through a deep chuckle, “ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“I could say much the same about you, Mr. McCree,” Hanzo offered, then stepped aside so the other man could enter.

“Jesse,” McCree blurted before his brain could caution him against it. “Call me Jesse, sugar.”

The smile that graced Hanzo’s face was worth it. “Jesse,” he echoed, and damn if that didn’t sound good rolling off his tongue.

They came together easily; McCree pushed Hanzo up against the wall and began to kiss down the side of his neck, growling excitedly as the man’s scent filled his senses. Hanzo hummed, pleased, and arched his neck to give him more access. McCree wished he could suck big, splotchy marks into that expanse of pale flesh, but settled for nibbling on the man’s earlobe until he was squirming and pushing him back by his shoulders with trembling hands.

“Can I, um,” Hanzo swallowed hard, “have sex with you?”

McCree grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Ain’t that what we’ve been doin’?” he teased.

The other man scowled, his cheeks turning pink. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” McCree crooned, moving back into his space. He gripped his hips, pushing up his shirt to reach the warm skin beneath it. “I don’t know, darlin’. Tell me what you want.”

Hanzo jumped him then, grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt and fixing him with a stare so hungry and hot that it stole McCree’s breath away. “I want you,” he began in a low growl, “to lie face down on my bed with your ass in the air and patiently wait for me to fuck you until you’re screaming.”

McCree’s mouth went dry. “Yessir,” he babbled, saluting with a shaking hand. “Hell yes, sir, I can do that for you, sir - ”

“Good,” Hanzo said, averting his eyes for a split second as embarrassment threatened to end their little game before it even really started. McCree wanted none of that and was quick to sprint to the bedroom like his pants were on fire, wrenching a chuckle out of the other man.

By the time Hanzo strolled into the bedroom, McCree was mostly naked, save for his cowboy hat, which Hanzo immediately wrinkled his nose up at. McCree just tilted it at him, grinning.

“See something you like?” he teased, wiggling his bare ass. “Lookin’s for free, but touchin’ll cost you.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “The money’s by the lamp on the table by the door,” he said, beginning to disrobe, unhurried. “I can wait if you want to go count it all out.”

“Nah,” McCree said immediately, eyes glued to that delicious spiraling tattoo Hanzo was slowly exposing. It looked so goddamned good on him. “Nah, right now I wanna lick every inch of that ink of yours, darlin’.”

“Patience.” Hanzo finished removing his shirt, then sat down on the edge of the bed to undo his socks and shoes. McCree reached for his back, wanting to feel the rippling muscles beneath his hands, but Hanzo hissed at him, making him reluctantly recoil with a whine.

Finally Hanzo finished undressing and turned to join McCree on the bed. The last thing to go was his hair ribbon, and the sight of his hair, puffy and stiff from being tied back all day, coming to curl near his jaw was enough to have McCree grinding into the mattress again with want.

“I told you to be patient,” Hanzo said, reaching over to smack his ass with a flick of his wrist.

McCree bit his lip to stifle a moan, but there was no censoring the way he picked his ass up for more attention as Hanzo came to kneel between his spread legs.

“You like this?” Hanzo soothed his hand over the reddened cheek. “Being spanked?”

“I…” McCree choked as Hanzo brought his hand down again, kneading and spreading his cheeks. He usually didn’t like a whole lot of attention being focused on his ass - which was stupid, really, given how many people he’d allowed access to it - but there was something about the way Hanzo looked at him. Not critical or condescending. McCree might as well have been hanging in a museum. “Not before you.”

Hanzo paused only for a second, then brought both hands down on him, making the globes of his ass jiggle and flush a vibrant red. McCree didn’t try to stifle his moans this time.

As promised, Hanzo took him on his knees hard and fast, leaving him gasping and gripping the headboard for support. He pushed back with every glorious thrust, chasing his own pleasure as best as he could. He knew Hanzo’s came first, but damned if the guy didn’t get him revved up something fierce.

“Can I come on you?” Hanzo rasped into his ear, and at his whiny affirmation, pulled out, removed the condom, and came all over McCree’s back in thick milky stripes. McCree shuddered at the sensation and caught a fleeting thought, a desire that made his blood run cold: he wished Hanzo could come inside him.

Hanzo collapsed onto the bed next to McCree, panting like he’d just run a marathon. McCree lowered himself onto the mattress, subtly trying to grind his hips into the covers. He knew better than to touch himself despite the ache in his groin. Hanzo was a nice guy, but McCree didn’t want to risk it.

Eventually Hanzo had some pity on his poor soul and coaxed him back onto his knees so that he could finger fuck him. The two fingers in McCree’s ass were relentless, finding his prostate almost with practiced ease and massaging it until McCree was reduced to a whimpering, incoherent mess. It felt so goddamned good, but it wasn’t enough to make him come.

“Please,” he babbled, “please, please, darlin’, _please_ \- ”

Hanzo said nothing for the better part of half an hour, long enough for McCree to damn near lose his mind and Hanzo’s cock to wake up for another romp. Hanzo turned him onto his side and spooned up behind him, fucking into him deeply. Since his own needs had already been taken care of, he was in no rush, further drawing McCree to the brink of madness.  
  
“You mean sonofabitch,” he sobbed, clawing at the pillow, the bed, Hanzo’s thigh where he’d slid it between McCree’s legs. “You’re such a mean piece of shit, I hate you, Hanzo, you beautiful bastard - god - ”

Hanzo grinned against his neck, all teeth. “Good boy.”

McCree snapped, forgot the rules, forgot everything except the urge to finish. Twice he reached for his cock, and twice Hanzo grabbed him by the wrists and pinned his arms to his chest, snarling a vicious no into his ear before biting it. McCree never thought his ears were all that sensitive, but lo and behold.

Finally, finally, Hanzo flipped him onto his stomach and reached around him to touch his cock in time with his thrusts, which had grown frantic as his own need for completion began to override his desire to torture McCree. They come together like that, with Hanzo grunting on top of McCree while he screamed into the pillow and bucked back against him.

McCree’s orgasm was nothing short of dying and going to heaven. It sent him to an entirely different mental plane, yanked him out of his body and threw him into the stratosphere. He never wanted to come back down.

He must have passed out for a time - something that should have alarmed him, really - and when he woke, he found Hanzo running a warm washcloth over his back, carefully cleaning away the half-dried remains of his spunk.

Hanzo met his gaze and turned a fantastic shade of red. “Hello,” he mumbled.

McCree tried to laugh, but apparently he was still breathless. “What was that all about?” he asked instead, rolling onto his side.

“I apologize,” Hanzo mumbled as he moved to put the washcloth in the hamper. “I’ve had a stressful day at work and I think I took out some of my aggression on you. You didn’t tell me to stop,” he added hastily, looking at him through wide, nervous eyes, and abruptly McCree realized the man was worried he’d overstepped some boundaries.

“I didn’t,” McCree agreed, grinning. “Darlin’, I’ve been doin’ this a long while, okay, and ain’t nobody - I mean _nobody_ \- ever did me the way you just did.”

Hanzo blinked at him, still wide-eyed and twitchy. “That is...good, then?”

“You’ve ruined sex for me. I’ll never come as hard as I just did ever again.” McCree let out another pleased sigh and shut his eyes. He ached - he would for a few days, he reckoned - but that was fine. Every twinge would remind him of tonight.

Finally Hanzo relaxed and joined him on the bed. “Will you stay the night?” he asked quietly.

McCree cracked open an eye to look at him. “That’s what you’re payin’ me for, ain’t it?” He leaned over to nuzzle his neck and breathe in his scent. “We’ll go all night for as long as you like, darlin’. Just need a few more minutes to recover.”

“No, I mean, sleep with me. I don’t think I can do another round.”

“I don’t sleep with clients.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, confused, but didn’t try to fight the rules. He never did, bless him. It made McCree feel bad, made him want to kiss Hanzo when he knew the man was unconsciously waiting for it. But if he let one client get away with it, he’d have to do the same for the others - and there were definitely a handful of clients he did _not_ want to kiss.

“Just stay, then,” Hanzo murmured, lowering his head onto the pillow. His damp, inky hair fanned out around his head like a halo. With his sweat-speckled chest and half-lidded eyes focused on McCree, he was nothing short of angelic.

“Goddamn, if you ain’t the prettiest thing on this side of the Mississippi,” he said through a sigh as he settled down next to him. “Fine, I’ll stay a while. But I ain’t sleepin’.”

Hanzo offered him a tired smile before his eyes finally slid shut. A few minutes later he was slipping off, and it was only after the clock on the bedside table struck three that McCree rose and dressed.

Taking the wad of cash Hanzo for him under the lamp by the front door felt like a crime. 


	3. Chapter 3

“You saw him again, didn’t you?” Genji blurted the second Hanzo could hear him.

Hanzo almost stumbled into the booth. “How did you…?”

“You’ve got this,” Genji gestured wildly at him, “this _glow_ about you that you haven’t had since we were boys. You don’t look like a zombie for once.”

At that, Hanzo sputtered indignantly. “I’ve never looked like a zombie,” he argued.

“Bullshit. Everyone agrees that your cheekbones could kill a man if you headbutted them.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re trying to change the subject.” Genji lowered his voice and leaned across the table, eyes wide and curious. “You really bought him again? I guess I should just be glad it hadn’t happened sooner.”

It had been foolish, Hanzo inwardly admitted, to call for McCree almost a week later for another romp, but work had been hell, and frankly Hanzo hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the cowboy, even after Genji’s first warning. The man had brought a warmth with him, even if it hadn’t stayed after they were done. And Hanzo was sick of being cold.

“Spare me the lecture,” he snapped, finally losing his temper. Whatever glow Genji had been going on about was surely faded now.

Genji noticed and wisely recoiled. “All right,” he said quietly. “I won’t rag on you about it. Instead, I guess I’ll ask how he was since you didn’t tell me about it last time. It’s the least you can do.”

Anger drained out of Hanzo so fast that he nearly face-planted on the sticky diner table between them. “Genji, for the love of everything good and decent…”

“I deserve to know! I paid for him the first time,” Genji pointed out, and it was only because they were speaking in Japanese that Hanzo didn’t launch himself over the table to strangle his brother into silence.

“He was fine.”

“Gonna have to give me more than that,” Genji teased, pausing to thank the waitress as she brought them their lunch. On any other day, Genji would have put their conversation on hold to flirt with the young lady, but not today. Genji’s burning gaze remained glued to his brother, prompting him to crack.

Hanzo gave in with a shrug. “I was insulted at first,” he admitted, wrenching a startled, concerned look out of his brother until he elaborated. “He came wearing a cowboy hat. I thought you were being cruel.”

At that, Genji sputtered out a laugh. “They sent you a _cowboy_? I didn’t think they existed anymore,” he said, grinning. “Did he lasso you and dump you on some railroad tracks?”

Hanzo frowned at him. “No. He was...kind,” he offered, immediately flinching at how lame he sounded. “Considerate. When he learned it was my first time with a sex worker, he made sure I was comfortable with what we were doing.”

“Huh.”

“Is that strange?”

Genji shrugged. “Nah, I’m glad he was thoughtful. A lot of folks tend to just lie there and let their clients go to town,” he explained. “They want to get it over with as soon as possible. Which is understandable, I’m sure.”

“He did seem surprised when I returned the favor the first time,” Hanzo said without thinking.

Genji grinned like a wolf and slapped the table, snickering. “Did you ride this American cowboy, brother?” he asked, making Hanzo duck his head with utter embarrassment. “Don’t be shy! What’s that saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy! Is that what you did, Hanzo?”

“I hate you,” Hanzo grumbled, shoving a wad of lettuce into his mouth. “And for the record, no, I did not.” He paused, then added very quietly, “I don’t think I could ride him if I wanted to.”

Genji sputtered out a laugh that earned them several stares from other customers. “Anything is possible if you believe,” Genji had the grace to tell him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hanzo muttered.

* * *

Hanzo prided himself on being able to resist calling McCree for almost an entire month, though that was really only because he’d been away for most of it on a business trip. When he had returned, he’d been too exhausted to do much of anything besides catch up on sleep and tend to the koi pond in the backyard.

One particularly annoying work day later, though, Hanzo was dialing the Deadlock Saloon to ask for McCree. The man he spoke to on the other line was gruff and snide, but thankfully didn’t give him grief for calling. Even better - there was time in McCree’s schedule to come visit him that night. Having him standing on his front porch three hours later was more than a welcome sight.

“Been a while,” McCree teased, tipping his hat. “I was beginnin’ to think that you’d forgotten all about me, darlin’.”

“Forget about you?” Hanzo eyed his interesting choice of headwear, his typical flannel shirt and cowboy boots. “Not possible.”

McCree grinned and shrugged out of his coat, dropping it onto its semi-usual spot on the arm of the couch. He turned back to Hanzo, moving in, when Hanzo caught sight of some bruising just visible above the collar of his shirt. He put his hand out, catching the man.

He eyed the marks, confused. “Did you change the terms?”

“Ah.” McCree rubbed his hand over one of the hickeys, his gaze downcast. “Nah. Some people have a hard time dealin’ with certain rules is all.”

Hanzo’s brows steadily creeped up onto his forehead. “Someone forced these upon you?”

The man just shrugged. “Some folks get carried away is all,” he said, then sent him a pointed look. “Caught up in the passion and all that. Sound familiar?”

Hanzo felt his cheeks flush slightly, but his concern kept him from getting truly flustered. There was more to it than that - he could tell from the tired, lifeless look in McCree’s normally animated eyes.But he could also see that the man didn’t want to talk about it further, so he bit back the urge to nag.

“What’s on the menu for tonight, darlin’?” McCree asked, quickly changing the subject as he moved into Hanzo’s space.

“How about we just relax this time?” Hanzo suggested. “We can make some popcorn and watch a movie.”

McCree blinked. “What?”

The request was bold, Hanzo realized, and undeniably foolish, but he remained firm. “You heard me.”

McCree frowned at him like he’d sucked on a lemon. “I ain’t got time for this.”

“You do. I paid for your time,” Hanzo reminded him, perhaps a little harshly. “What is so wrong about simply laying with me? I’ve had a frustrating day at work and I want to relax.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it. It’s just not what I’m here for.”

“You would rather have sex while you’re sore instead of lie on the couch with me and watch television?”

“Is it ‘cos of the marks?” McCree blurted, dropping his angry facade to gaze at Hanzo with what could only be a look of hurt and self-loathing. “You see ‘em and they remind you of the fact that I’m a whore, is that it?”

“I - what?” Hanzo stared at him, stunned. “I’m well aware that you are a sex worker, Mr. McCree.”

“Great. That - fuckin’ fantastic, thanks.”

Hanzo bit his lip and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I apologize,” he began slowly. “I didn’t mean to make things tense.”

“You didn’t - ” McCree cut himself off with a ragged sigh. All at once he deflated, and suddenly Hanzo was looking at a tired, defeated man. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to lash out. S’been a rough couple’a days for me, too.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hanzo asked, priding himself on only sounding a little awkward. He was getting better at this communication thing, though he supposed he had McCree to thank for that.

“Nah. You ain’t payin’ me to listen to my troubles.”

Hanzo tilted his head. “What if I want to? You’re here to satisfy me, are you not?” McCree opened his mouth to protest, but Hanzo cut him off. “What would satisfy me more than anything right now is to watch some television with you. Can we do that? Just this once?”

“Jesus, you’re stubborn.” McCree shook his head. Hanzo could see him biting the inside of his cheek, like he was trying not to smile. “Alright, fine. But just this once.”

“Fair enough.”

They migrated over to the couch and plopped down with a respectable amount of distance between them - far more than Hanzo liked, but it was fine if they were just watching TV. He flicked through the channels, unsure of what to settle with. He hardly ever watched television himself, and he had no idea what McCree was into, if anything at all. Eventually he settled on a rerun of Kitchen Nightmares, and the two men fell into complete silence with only Gordon Ramsay’s outraged yelling to fill the void.

“This is a little weird, isn’t it,” Hanzo muttered eventually, startling a loud guffaw out of McCree.

“Only a lil’,” the man teased. He waggled his eyebrows at him and leaned in. “I know what could make it less awkward.”

Hanzo huffed, but didn’t protest when McCree slid off the couch and settled between his legs, pawing at the growing bulge in his slacks. Leaning in closer, he ran his hands up Hanzo’s thighs as he nudged his nose along his crotch, inhaling deeply. Hanzo sighed and reached for McCree, digging his hands into his shoulders to spur him onwards.

McCree hissed, the noise not stemming out of pleasure. Hanzo withdrew his hands, startled, and eyed the twisted, semi-pained expression on McCree’s face as the man pulled back.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” the other man said quickly. “Just...sore.”

Hanzo wasn’t convinced, and with some concerned frowning and batting of eyelashes, McCree finally agreed to remove his shirt. The inflamed red lines running north to south on his back and over his shoulders were startling, especially since a handful were clearly on their way to getting infected or at least close to it.

“Did you disinfect any of these before coming over?” Hanzo demanded.

“I showered,” McCree mumbled, now pouting like a kid being scolded. “Didn’t have time for much else.”

“You should make time for yourself,” Hanzo told him, ushering him to his feet.

It didn’t take much manhandling to get McCree into the bathroom, and his pouting ceased entirely when he lowered himself into the tub as it filled with hot water. After a brief moment of hesitation, Hanzo stripped off the rest of his clothes and joined him, yet again finding himself thankful that he had splurged on designing his bathroom when he’d constructed his house a year ago. The tub was more of a jacuzzi - there was plenty of room for the two grown men and then some.

Hanzo snagged a washcloth and began to gently dab at the long cuts lacing the man’s spine. McCree rumbled a little, torn between feeling pain and pleasure as warm water cascaded down his back. Per Hanzo’s request, he reached over to snag a bottle of body wash off the shelf. He paused, frowning down at the foreign label, before passing it to Hanzo.

“Japan?” he guessed.

Hanzo nodded. “I import it,” he explained as he lathered up the suds on the washcloth. “The scent reminds me of home.”

“Where’s that?”

“Hanamura. A small village high up on a hill.” Hanzo caught himself smiling wistfully as flashes of his childhood darted around in his head. “There are cherry blossoms everywhere in the springtime. I...I miss it,” he admitted quietly.

“Sounds pretty,” McCree said quietly. From the looks of things, he was well on his way to dozing off. “What’s stoppin’ ya from goin’ home? Business too good here?”

Hanzo hesitated. Home was a taboo subject - he rarely even spoke about it with Genji. It still felt like a fresh wound despite everything coming to a head almost ten years ago.

“Sorry,” McCree mumbled through a yawn. “S’none of my business - ”

“My father,” Hanzo blurted, feeling his face flush and his chest swell with anxiousness and perhaps a little bit of relief. “He and I - I was supposed to take over the family business, but...we had a falling out. I was more or less thrown out of the family and cut off from their support.”

McCree was awake now, his eyes wide with surprise and sympathy as he sent him a look from over a tanned shoulder. “Sorry to hear that,” he offered sincerely.

“I have my brother. I am financially stable, in a house I like, with occasional company that is to my taste,” he teased, poking McCree in the ribs and making him sputter a laugh. “I am content for now.”

“Well shucks, I’m blushin’.” McCree hesitated a moment as he drew his knees tightly to his chest. “You ever think about goin’ back there, tryin’ to patch things up with your old man?”

No, Hanzo wanted to say. “He died years ago, so there is little point.”

McCree flinched. “Ah, sorry. Damn, this conversation just keeps getting worse and worse, huh?”

Hanzo just shrugged as he started to rinse off all the soapy water from McCree’s back. “I haven’t spoken about my father in years,” he admitted quietly, more to himself than to McCree. “It...felt good to let some of it out.”

At that, he felt McCree relax a little. “I hear ya,” he said.

“How about you, Mr. McCree?” Hanzo asked as he reached over to unplug the drain. It gurgled loudly as the tub began to empty. “Anything you want to get off your chest?”

“Well,” he began, grinning, “I think I’m startin’ to get attached to someone. There’s this weird fella I know - might attractive, mighty awkward - ” Hanzo thwacked him on the head with the waterlogged washcloth. “Ah, darlin’, please!”

“No mercy,” Hanzo said, smacking him again.

McCree sent a handful of water in his direction, soaking him from head to toe and spurning a short-lived water war between the two of them. The last of the water drained and McCree wrestled the washcloth out of Hanzo’s hands, throwing it over his shoulder and almost knocking a row of shampoo bottles off the edge of the tub. Their feet and asses squeaked obnoxiously on the wet porcelain as they struggled for dominance - a fight that McCree eventually won, if only because Hanzo was afraid to touch his back.

McCree pinned him to the rim of the tub with a triumphant “hah!” and flashed him a brilliant grin that left Hanzo breathless. It also didn’t help matters that McCree had settled between his spread legs, bringing them flush together.

McCree’s eyes darted to Hanzo’s lips. Hanzo froze, still panting, and waited, prayed, that the other man would make a move. He unconsciously leaned forward half an inch - a silent go-ahead to act.

A moment later, McCree’s jaw clenched, his eyes darted away, and Hanzo felt himself deflate in more ways than one.

They got out of the tub and toweled off in relative silence. Hanzo eyed the scratches on McCree’s spine; they were less inflamed now, but still needed to be patched up.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Hanzo said, making the other man’s brows quirk with interest. “On the bed. Face down. Wait for me there.”

McCree gave an over-exaggerated shudder and pretended to swoon. “Ooh, I get all tingly when you give me orders, darlin’,” he crooned.

Hanzo smacked his ass, urging him to obey, and rifled through the medicine cabinet until he found some antiseptic lotion, bandages, and gauze. When he entered the bedroom, he was pleased to find McCree exactly as he’d ordered, though him lazily humping the bed spread was an added bonus.

“How you want me, darlin’?” he burbled, turning his head to wink at him.

“Lying still, preferably,” Hanzo said as he held up the medical stuff. McCree frowned and huffed as he turned his head away, but at least he ceased moving long enough for Hanzo to straddle his lower back.

“I can’t believe you spent money to baby me,” McCree grumbled a few minutes later as Hanzo was rubbing the healing salve into his cuts. “I know some people are into that shit, but damn.”

“Hush,” Hanzo hissed, leaning up to flick his ear. “I bought your time, not your body.”

“Honey, I appreciate you tryin’ to make me feel less like an object, but you bought me, plain and simple.”

“I said hush.” Hanzo unrolled some of the gauze and started taping it down over the worst of the cuts. “Helping you makes me feel good. It’s your job to make your clients feel good, right? Let me do this.”

McCree mumbled something into his arms, but otherwise fell silent, allowing Hanzo to quickly finish up. He started massaging the unmarred portions of the man’s back, which really only left the area right above his plump ass. Hanzo scooted down to straddle his thighs, then got to work digging his thumbs into the man’s hips.

McCree gave an appreciative groan and unconsciously lifted his ass, practically presenting it to him. Hanzo tsked and slapped the man’s cheek, making him yelp.

“Darlin’, please, can I…” He sighed sharply and hung his head, suddenly still. “Sometimes to deal with certain clients, I gotta take some shit to, ah, get my motor goin’, if you catch my drift. The last guy I was with is one of those clients.”

Hanzo sat back, now concerned, and noticed for the first time just how red McCree’s cock was. It looked uncomfortable if not downright painful. “What do you need?” he asked, running his hand down McCree’s thigh.

“To come,” McCree nearly whimpered, pushing his ass back. “Please, darlin’, let me come.”

Who was he to say no to such an honest plea? Hanzo urged him to roll over onto his ass and face him. “Touch yourself,” Hanzo ordered. “I want to watch you.”

The noise that came out of McCree’s mouth was unholy. Hanzo’s cock gave a valiant attempt at showing interest. It had gone flaccid a while ago and he doubted it would come back in time, but he sat back to enjoy the show anyway.

Hanzo eyed McCree, his legs spread with an aloofness that the other man couldn’t tear his half-lidded eyes away from. “What are you thinking about, I wonder?” Hanzo murmured.

“You,” McCree sputtered, jerking up into his fist. His eyes snapped to Hanzo’s. “Damned if it ain’t you half the time, sugar.”

Hanzo swallowed hard. He contemplated trying to wake his own cock up, but just as he was reaching for it, McCree started panting with his impending orgasm. It looked almost painful as it rolled through him, if his tight expression was any indication. Normally he hollered to the high heavens when he came, but this time only a raspy gasp escaped him as his stomach muscles rippled and his toes curled. A moment later he went completely limp against the pillows and sucked in a massive gasp, his chest flushed and heaving hard enough to worry Hanzo.

“Sleep,” Hanzo said when the man came back down enough to hear him.

McCree sighed heavily through his nose. “I don’t sleep with clients,” he said through a yawn. “I told you that last time.”

“Then just rest,” Hanzo said, sounding more desperate than he’d like. “There are no rules against that, are there?”

McCree cracked a smile and shut his eyes. “No, there ain’t,” he agreed, sinking further into the pillows. “Fine, I’ll rest - just for a little while.”

Hanzo scooted closer, content to be in the man’s presence for as long as he could. This time, he didn’t bother to hide his disappointment when he woke at dawn and found the other side of the bed cold and empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have mentioned this a bit earlier, but ages are a little wonky in this fic. Hanzo and McCree are in their early 30s, Genji his late 20s, Jack, Ana and Gabe in their 50s, Lucio is 11, Hana is 13, Jamie is 15.

The first time Hanzo saw McCree on the street and not between his sheets, the man was being followed around by three young kids and an older man wearing all black and a beanie despite the pleasant temperature. The kids couldn’t be more than pre-teens and were all chattering away with the two men as they strolled down the sidewalk.

Needless to say, it took Hanzo by complete surprise. McCree did strike him as a family-oriented sort of guy, but actually seeing him in the role of what Hanzo could only assume to be a parent was jarring. He zeroed in on the other man and wondered if he was McCree’s husband or boyfriend.

His more judgemental side reared its ugly head in, wondering if the other man knew what McCree did for a living, but Hanzo squashed it back down with a hiss. He had no room to judge when he was the one paying for McCree’s company.

He had intended to keep walking, but as luck would have it, McCree spotted him from across the street and offered him a wave and a grin that was impossible not to return. Hanzo awkwardly lifted his hand to echo the gesture, catching the attention of the kids.

They pointed at him and asked McCree questions, but whatever McCree said in reply must not have been to their liking. One of the boys was on skates and bolted across the street with barely a glance, and the other boy and young girl were hot on his heels. Hanzo balked as he was immediately surrounded.

“Hi! I’m Lúcio,” the boy on skates said, flashing him a dazzling grin. “This is Hana and Jamie - ”

“Are you Jesse’s boyfriend?” the girl, Hana, demanded, hands on her hips.

The other taller boy spat out a laugh. “Are you kiddin’? He looks way too rich,” he said. He was a lanky, wild-haired thing with wide eyes that were now looking Hanzo up and down. “You one’a them fancy suits that work in the big buildings?”

By the time they were done heckling him, McCree and the other man were catching up to their kids.

“Lúcio! Jesus, kid, look both ways before hurling yourself into traffic,” the other man snapped with all the worry of a parent. “One more stunt like that and I’m taking those skates away.”

“Sorry,” the kid moaned, slouching. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“Can you blame us for being excited?” Hana asked, grinning impishly. “I mean, how often does Jesse show off any real friends?”

“Hey now,” McCree snapped, sending the teenager a glare that lacked any real heat. “I got plenty of friends, thanks.”

“We don’t count,” Hana said, earning a snicker from Jamie.

The other man rolled his eyes and held his hand out for Hanzo to shake. “Gabriel Reyes,” he said, nearly crushing Hanzo’s hand in his grip. “Nice to finally meet a friend of Jesse’s who isn’t clad in leather and reeking like shitty booze and cigarettes.”

McCree clapped his hand over his eyes. “Okay, enough’a all this,” he snapped, starting to shoo at his family. Hana stuck her tongue out at him but didn’t protest as Gabriel pulled them all down the block.

Once they were out of earshot, McCree turned back to Hanzo, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “Sorry ‘bout them,” he said through a forced laugh. “They can be a lil’ overwhelmin’ when they’re in horde mode like that.”

That was a little bit of an understatement. “Hana seems to think we are a couple,” Hanzo said slowly. “Have you mentioned me to them?”

McCree ducked his head, his grin taking on a nervous twinge. “No, uh, they don’t know about my job,” he explained quietly. “My dad’ll kick my ass if he ever finds out.”

Hanzo tilted his head in confusion. “Your dad?” he echoed.

“Yeah, Gabe. Well, foster dad,” McCree amended, shrugging. “Raised me since I was like, five, so he might as well be the real deal, y’know?”

“Then...he is not your…?”

McCree blinked at him, then broke out into a peal of booming laughter that made Hanzo duck his head in embarrassment. “Oh, darlin’, you’re a hoot,” he wheezed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Naw, naw, he’s my Pa. Those brats’re the kids he’s raisin’ at the moment with his partners. They’re like annoyin’ little cousins of mine or somethin’.”

Hanzo’s shoulders slouched with relief - something he didn’t notice until it was too late to cover up. “I see.”

McCree hummed, eying him. “Were ya worried?” he teased, leaning in. “Jealous, maybe?”

“No,” Hanzo said quickly, pouting as McCree chuckled. “I just don’t want to get involved with a taken man.”

“Smart of ya. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, darlin’, I promise.”

Hanzo nodded, pleased. “I should let you get back to your family,” he said, stepping back.

McCree didn’t disagree, but he did try to close the gap between them. “You gonna see me later this week?” he asked quietly, eyes half-lidded and zeroed in on Hanzo’s lips. “‘Cos I’d sure as shoot would like to see you.”

He wasn’t going to - they’d just seen each other a few days ago - but Hanzo couldn’t say no.

“Aim for Thursday if you can,” McCree told him. “Anytime after six and I’m all yours if you want me.”

“I do,” Hanzo blurted, making the other man laugh and flash a dazzling grin.

“See you then,” McCree said, waving at him in farewell as he moved to catch up with the others.

Hanzo watched him leave, tingling with warmth from head to toe. “See you then.”

* * *

Predictably, calling McCree at least once a week for a romp became a habit. Hanzo stopped being ashamed of it around the fifth time they came together. It would have been easier to be disgusted with the whole situation if McCree wasn’t so damned likeable. The man was always happy to see him, was always gentle and considerate until Hanzo had enough of that and wanted it hard and rough.

Despite his reluctance to agree with him, Genji’s cautions were never far from Hanzo’s mind. He tried to be critical of almost everything McCree said or did, but that didn’t last long - not when McCree touched him the way he did or whispered those sweet nothings into his ear. How easily he made Hanzo forget that there was money involved between them.

Before, McCree would leave shortly after they’d finished. Lately though, he would stick around, accept the water Hanzo offered him and even a shower so he could prep for his next customer - all while conversing with Hanzo about whatever little thing crossed his mind. Hanzo, who really didn’t converse with anyone outside of work or his brother, found himself enjoying those moments far more than the sex, even if half the time he wasn’t sure what the hell McCree was talking about.

It was foolish, Hanzo knew, to get attached to someone who had sex with other people for a living. He should have tried harder to deny these feelings, but he wasn’t getting any younger. He was allowed to enjoy this crush, dammit, especially since it was unrequited.

At least, he was pretty sure it was. There were a few times Hanzo questioned whether or not McCree’s enthusiasm and fond expressions were just him doing his job or if they were truly genuine. The one time Hanzo put on his cowboy hat and told McCree he wanted to ride him like a horse, the guy had practically formed hearts in his eyes.

Well, whatever they had - it was lovely and got Hanzo through the week, and for now, that was enough.

One evening after a hearty romp, Hanzo watched a freshly-washed McCree dress from the bed and had to ask, “Are you going back to the bar?”

“Nah, to my house. My parents’ house,” McCree corrected as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “Promised ‘em I’d be home for dinner tonight.”

“I can give you a ride,” Hanzo blurted before his brain could tell him to shut up. At McCree’s arched brow, Hanzo eked out a quiet, “If you want.”

The other man pursed his lips, thinking, before deciding it wouldn’t hurt. It was getting colder, the sun setting faster. There was no harm in it.

After Hanzo showered and dressed, they piled into his car and made their way over to the other side of town. Hanzo had no idea McCree lived so far from him; he immediately began to feel bad about calling him so often, even if most of the time he was coming from the bar, which was halfway between the two points.

“Do you drive?” Hanzo asked him. He’d never seen him show up to his place in a car, though for all he knew, he parked around the corner or something.

“Got a license but no wheels,” McCree told him. “Can’t afford anythin’. Someday, though, I’d like to get a bike and just take off into the desert out west.”

“And do what?”

“I dunno, see the sights. I got faint memories of the place. I’m thinkin’ maybe I’m from those parts,” he said, shrugging as if embarrassed that he was mentioning his past. “If nothin’ else, it’ll fit the image I got goin’ on, yeah?”

“A modern day cowboy,” Hanzo agreed, earning a grin and a booming laugh out of his companion.

Eventually they reached the end of a modest cul de sac in a quiet neighborhood not too far from the main highway. McCree’s house was a simple two-story building that was a carbon copy of the ones around it, but they made up for the monotony with a beautiful flower garden lining the front walk. Hanzo pulled up to the curb after McCree told him it was okay to park there.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he said as he slid out of the passenger seat and shut the door. He didn’t disappear into the house; instead he leaned down to grin at him through the open window. “I’ll see you soon?”

Hanzo nodded and was two seconds away from leaving when McCree suddenly gave a yelp and reared back, narrowly missing slamming his head on the top of the car. A blur of blond bolted away from him with a high-pitched cackle and another shower of neon orange darts fired from a small nerf gun.

“Dammit, Jamie!” McCree yelled as he took chase. “I’m gonna tan your damn hide, kid!”

While McCree and Jamie continued to quarrel, Lúcio poked his head through the passenger window, all smiles. “Hi, Hanzo!” he greeted, offering him a wave. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Hanzo almost recoiled. “I could not,” he said haltingly. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Pshaw!” Lúcio said, waving one hand in dismissal. “We always got extra food. Lemme go ask Ana - I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“It’s fine - ” Hanzo cut himself off with a sigh as the boy darted away, managing to climb the steps to the house with ease despite wearing those skates of his. Resigned to his fate, Hanzo turned the car off and got out just in time for a tall woman with graying hair to come down the walk. She paid no mind to McCree and Jamie, who were now wrestling around in the grass in a desperate attempt to seize control of the nerf gun.

“Hello, dear,” she said, holding out her hand for a shake. Her grip was firm, her gaze sharp despite the crows feet clustering around the corners of her eyes. “Hanzo, is it? I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m Ana.”

Hanzo felt himself turning red under her scrutiny. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said.

“None of that, now. Ana’s fine,” she said, smirking. “Lúcio says you wish to stay for dinner.”

Hanzo nearly face-palmed. “I - it was his suggestion,” he said lamely. “I don’t want to intrude or - ”

“Nonsense,” Ana said, her smile growing more genuine. “I just hope you like Mexican. It’s Gabe’s turn to cook.”

Across the yard, McCree gave a triumphant cry as he finally yanked the nerf gun out of Jaime’s hands. “It’s high noon, punk!” he yelled, firing a dart into Jamie’s gut. The kid shrieked in mock-pain before convulsing and twitching through an overly elaborate death scene.

McCree punched the sky in victory as he stood up and faced the other two adults, winded and sweaty but grinning like he’d just won a million dollars.

Hanzo swallowed hard. “I love it.”

* * *

Despite McCree’s immediate, vehement protests about dragging Hanzo to dinner, Hanzo found himself being seated in a pretty cramped yet homey dining space. In front of him was a dish filled with something called a cochinita pibil that smelled as delicious as it looked. Usually Hanzo never bothered cooking any real meals for himself unless Genji was around - and these days, McCree as well - so that alone was truly a treat.

He was wedged snugly between McCree and Hana, and across from him was Ana and Gabe’s other partner, Jack, a white-haired, stern-faced man who hadn’t stopped staring at him since he walked through the front door and introduced himself. McCree had told him his dads had been in the army at one point but were now retired foster parents. Hanzo could certainly see the military experience shining through the older man’s unwavering stare.

“So,” Jack drawled through a barely concealed midwestern accent, “where’re you from?”

“Japan,” Hanzo answered, moving to poke at his meal. It was delicious, but Hanzo’s stomach was too tangled with anxiety to really enjoy it now. “My brother and I moved here a little over ten years ago.”

Jack hummed, his expression giving away nothing. “What do you do for a living?”

“Jack,” McCree hissed, scowling and red-faced. “Leave him alone, Jesus. This is dinner, not an interrogation.”

“Who’s interrogating? I’m just trying to have a conversation.”

“Jesse’s right, though. You’ve got that look on your face,” Hana pointed out, grinning. “The one where you look like you’re constipated.”

At that, Jack narrowed his gaze into a half-assed glare that he fired in the young girl’s direction. “I’m just trying to play the role of a concerned father,” he grumbled.

“What for?” McCree groused, jabbing at his meal. “Hanzo and I are friends, dammit, I’ve said this a thousand times.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and jabbed his fork at him. “Have you seen your friends, kid? Maybe if we’d been this concerned about them, you wouldn’t have that hideous goddamned tattoo on your arm.”

“Says the old piss who has his nipples pierced,” McCree fired back, wrenching a sputter out of his foster father.

“Children, behave,” Ana ordered from the head of the table.

At that, all three men wilted and started pouting in their seats. Hanzo was struggling not to smile as he reached under the table and gave McCree’s knee a squeeze, wrenching a small, quick smirk out of him.

After dinner, Hanzo helped Ana and Jack clear the table and do the dishes despite McCree’s protests that Hanzo was a guest and shouldn’t have to. Hanzo assured him he didn’t mind. As awkward as much of the meal had been, Hanzo couldn’t deny that it felt good to not eat dinner alone in his house for once.

He joined the family in the living room where Ana all but threw him onto the couch and shoved a photo album into his lap. Inside he found dozens of images of McCree as a young boy. In most of them, he had his hat, though it was too large to sit properly on his head.

“So he’s always been a cowboy,” Hanzo found himself saying, earning some chuckles out of the group.

“You haven’t shown him the best pic yet,” Hana said, leaning over the back of the couch to flip through the photo album. Hanzo saw glimpses of a comfortable life - Christmases and Halloweens and birthday parties all spent within the warm arms of a family who loved him dearly. It made Hanzo ache for a family he never had, for a mother who died too soon and a father who saw he and his brother as pawns for his business and nothing more.

Hana stopped flipping the pages and jabbed a painted nail at one of the pictures tucked behind the clear protective flap. It was of a teenage McCree right on the cusp of adulthood with the barest beginnings of a stubble on his chin. He was leaning against someone Hanzo couldn’t be bothered to look at, smirking and tilting his hat - which fit him perfectly now - at the wielder of the camera.

Hanzo swallowed. Beside him, Hana snickered and promised to get him a copy of it.

Conversation continued, shifting to how McCree joined the family. “Gabriel was the one who wanted to start fostering,” Ana explained. “It took a while to get all the paperwork and clearance because of our unique situation, but eventually Jesse was brought to us. You were what, four or five, dear?”

“Five,” McCree grumbled from his seat. He resembled one now, what with the way he was slouched and pouting.

“Yes,” Ana said, turning back to Hanzo. She pointed to one of the pictures of Gabriel, twenty or so years younger, holding a young Jesse McCree in his lap, both of them grinning from ear to ear. “This was taken a few hours after Jesse was dropped off. I’ve never seen Gabriel so happy.”

Both men groaned and covered their faces in embarrassment. Ana ignored them and told Hanzo stories of McCree as a babe, but McCree quickly put a stop to that when she started on a story dealing with one of those noodle food carts downtown. The kids quickly took over the conversation, turning it into a loud babble-fest about whatever tickled their fancy these days. Hanzo feigned interest until Hana mentioned Pokemon, and then he was readily participating in a conversation that made everyone but the kids fondly roll their eyes. When he promised to trade Hana all the Pokemon her version didn’t have, she turned to the others and proclaimed Hanzo her new best friend.

“Sorry, Jesse,” she told the other man. “You can’t have him anymore.”

McCree scoffed. “I got a lot more to offer him than you do, squirt,” he said.

Though the comment was innocent enough, Hanzo couldn’t help the warm blush from taking over the tips of his ears. He instinctively chanced a glance at Gabriel and found the man staring back at him with an intensity that took Hanzo off guard for a moment. Gabriel jerked his head towards the front door, the silent request clear and leaving no room for discussion.

After dislodging himself from the kids’ clutches, Hanzo followed Gabriel out onto the front porch. The door shut behind them, muffling the joyous noises coming from within the house. Hanzo gripped his mug of tea and stared out at the quiet culdesac around them, waiting for the other man to speak. It wasn’t long of a wait, but it certainly felt like it.

Gabriel pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and let out a heavy sigh alongside a cloud of smoke that drifted away from them on the breeze. “So,” he said, “you and Jesse, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hanzo said automatically. “We are friends.”

“With benefits?”

Hanzo felt himself flushing as he turned to send Gabriel a wide-eyed look, but the older man merely held up his hand, halting his protests before they even started.

“It’s no business of mine,” he admitted. “And it’s not my place to judge since I more or less started screwing around with Ana in the same way. But I’m a parent, okay - worrying about your dumbass kid is in the job description.”

Hanzo relaxed a little. “I understand.”

Gabriel took another drag, then sent him a look. “Is he okay?”

The question took Hanzo completely by surprise. “Why are you asking me and not him?”

“You think I don’t try? The kid’s real good at making you think everything’s dandy. The second you try to talk to him about it, he deflects and changes the subject.” Gabriel tsked and shook his head. “Learned that from me, probably. I dunno if he’s afraid to talk to us or - or ashamed or what. So I’m asking you if you know anything.”

Hanzo shrugged. “He doesn’t tell me much, either,” he said quietly. “We’ve only known each other for a month or so now.” He hesitated, then tacked on awkwardly, “Do you think something’s the matter?”

Gabriel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When he turned eighteen, he left us,” he began quietly. “No goddamned clue where he went - he just up and left in the middle of the night. We’d had a fight the day before,” he admitted bitterly, scowling down at the ground. “Pretty big one. I think it sealed the deal for him. There was nothing we could do about him jumping ship since he was legally an adult.

“Ten years later, he’s back on our doorstep with some shitty gang tattoos asking if he could come home. We know he got into some bad shit, but he won’t talk about it at all. We have no goddamned idea what he’d been up to in the years he’d been gone.”

The news left Hanzo shaken but not really surprised. Everyone had their share of secrets, and Hanzo truly doubted McCree would put himself through the pain of being a whore if there wasn’t some reason behind it.

“You seem like a good person, and you must care for Jesse,” Gabe went on. He chuckled as Hanzo ducked his head, embarrassed that he was so damned transparent. “What I’m saying is, I’m glad he’s got you to go if he won’t unload on us.”

“I barely know him,” Hanzo murmured.

“At this point, you probably know him better than we do.”

Well, that was probably true, Hanzo mentally agreed, thinking about the kinds of stuff McCree got up to with him. Now he almost felt bad about it, but he promised McCree he wouldn’t tell his family anything about his job, and he wasn’t about to go back on that.

As soon as they went back inside, McCree pounced on his foster father, demanding to know just what the hell he said to Hanzo. 

“Told him to use protection,” Gabriel said. He only budged a little when McCree shoved him.

Eventually the party started to wind down. Ana sent the kids off to bed, and McCree was quick to show Hanzo the door after they all said their goodbyes and thankyous.

“Hey, I’m real sorry ‘bout all that,” he babbled, almost breathless as they walked to the car. “I swear I didn’t mean for tonight to turn into such a clusterfuck - ”

“Your family is wonderful,” Hanzo told him, cutting off his tirade. “And dinner was lovely.”

McCree’s shoulders rolled back with surprise. “Oh - uh, yeah,” he said, blinking rapidly. He was cute when he was flustered, Hanzo mused, pursing his lips in a smirk. “They have their moments, I guess. Glad you like ‘em.”

“Indeed. My own family was never...” He bit his lip, then shook his head, not wanting to bring an end to the warm, pleasant sensation in his chest. “It was a little overwhelming, I admit, but I enjoyed meeting them. It’s clear they care for you deeply.”

McCree ducked his head, bashful. “Yeah,” he mumbled in agreement.

Hanzo got into the driver’s seat and started the car. “Have a good night, Jesse,” he said, offering the man a small smile. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” he stuttered, “Hanzo.”

It was only after Hanzo got home that he realized that he’d been given the new boyfriend treatment by McCree’s family. The dinner could have been explained away, but the fact that they threw McCree’s baby pictures at him and sat him down for the typical “what are your intentions with my son” conversations left no doubt in Hanzo’s mind.

It should have alarmed him, at the very least. He and McCree were not dating.

But he could pretend, Hanzo thought as he crawled into bed, alone and cold. A scent caught him the second he put his head down - McCree’s cologne, the one that smelled like whisky and gunpowder. It was all over his sheets and pillows from their shenanigans earlier.

Yes, he thought as he hugged one of the pillows to his chest. There was nothing wrong with pretending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me about mchanzo [on tumblr](http://vickjawn.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

Sometimes, when business was slow and McCree was getting increasingly desperate for cash, he would head to the streets. It was a great deal more dangerous that way - he’d already been attacked once by a client when he didn’t feel like paying - but a man’s gotta eat, never mind pay off the huge debt looming over his head. After nearly a week of nothing, McCree felt like he had no choice but to head to his favorite corner in the worst part of town and wait for a customer to roll up.

Around midnight, a car slowed down to a crawl alongside him. McCree gave it a once-over before he sauntered over to the passenger window. “Hey there,” he said cheerfully, tipping his hat as he bent over to grin at the driver.

Fareeha stared back at him, entirely unimpressed. “Get in before I have you arrested, Jesse,” she said flatly.

McCree reared back with a groan. “Goddammit, Fareeha.”

“In.”

With all the grace of a three-year-old having a tantrum, McCree yanked open the passenger door and threw himself into the seat, rocking the car on its wheels. “You make it real hard to get any work done ‘round here,” he groused, folding his arms across his chest as he seethed. “You ain’t even on duty, are you? How th’fuck do you always know when I’m out here? This is what, the fifth time you’ve caught me? Fuckin’ shit.”

She waited for him to stop huffing like a pissed off horse before asking, “You done?”

He deflated. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I was home and Mom was worried,” Fareeha said as they pulled away from the curb and started coasting. “I mean, more than usual. So here I am, looking for your dumb ass in the middle of the night so she can stop worrying.”

“You know where I’m at,” he muttered, sinking further into his seat. She was one of the only people in his life who knew what he did for a living these days.

“I think Jack and Gabe and Mom do, too.”

He whirled on her, wide-eyed. “Did they - ”

She shook her head. “They know the saloon closes at two. So when you sneak out claiming to be covering for someone until sunrise, yes they’re going to be suspicious.”

McCree sank deeper into his seat and pulled his hat over his face. “They can’t find out,” he rasped. “Fareeha - ”

“I haven’t said anything,” she said, softening her tone. “But they’re going to find out. I really think you should tell them before that happens.”

She told him that at least once every time they met up. She was right, of course, but the thought of telling his foster parents “hey, so I’ve been selling my body because I’m in deep shit with a gang that bailed me out of jail when I was twenty-three - oh, I never told you about that, did I?” was enough to make him nearly wet himself.

He sighed and shut his eyes. “How’s Angela?”

Fareeha frowned, but didn’t fight the subject change. She was used to this song and dance routine. “Busy,” she said. “Such is the life of a doctor.”

“You two gettin’ hitched yet or what?”

She snorted, but there was no hiding the blush on her dark cheeks. “Soon,” she muttered. “Maybe. Weddings are dumb and expensive.”

“Ma’s gonna get on your ass about it, y’know. It’s all she talks about these days.”

“Oh? Then why is it she was going on and on about this new ‘friend’ of yours when I came home?”

Now it was McCree’s turn to blush as he sank deeper into his seat. “He’s a friend,” he insisted.

“A client?”

“Both.”

Fareeha grunted, her mirth fading slightly. “But he must be special if you brought him home,” she argued. “Mom and Gabe and Jack seem to like him. The kids, too.”

“Well, I’m glad,” McCree said tersely, “but he’s still just a friend. You know I don’t fuck around with - I mean, I _do_ , but - you know what I mean, dammit. I don’t date clients. Ain’t good for either of us.”

“Okay, so you’re friends,” Fareeha conceded. “Tell me about your friend, Jesse.”

“He’s…” McCree cracked a small grin as he thought about the man. There was a lot he could say. “He’s an architect - super talented, designed his own house and a slew of other buildin’s downtown and all over the world. He’s attractive, about my age. Kinda awkward, kinda nerdy. Plays that game, ah, the one where you catch animals or whatever in those magic balls - ”

“Pokemon?” Fareeha barked out a laugh. “I thought they stopped making those games years ago. And your man plays it?”

McCree dodged responding to the ‘your man’ bit. “He tries to hide it, but I’ve caught him with his handheld game thing once or twice,” he said. “He gets embarrassed about it. It’s cute.”

A smirk twisted on Fareeha’s face. “I don’t think I’ve heard you use the word ‘cute’ to describe someone you’re into,” she had the grace to point out.

“I’m not ‘into’ him, goddammit,” he argued, but it was a lame rebuttal, one that neither of them believed in the slightest. McCree sighed. “He’s a client. He’s a friend. That’s all.”

“All right,” Fareeha said, humoring him. “Well, I’m glad you’ve got a friend. Mom says Hanzo’s welcome at the house, so you should probably bring him around again.”

“Duly noted.” McCree’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out with a great reluctance and wanted to chuck it through the windshield when he read the text his boss sent him. He was in for another awful romp with one of his worst clients.

Fareeha was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Everything all right?”

No, he wanted to scream. He’d been wanting to scream for help for a decade now. Instead, he asked Fareeha to drop him off at the Deadlock Saloon and resigned himself to another long, uncomfortable night.

* * *

“Oh my god,” Hanzo said.

McCree could only groan in agreement as he trembled below Hanzo, unable to thrust up into his tight heat like he so desperately wanted to do. “God damn,” he gritted out, “you’re the tightest goddamned thing I’ve ever felt ‘round my dick, darlin’, _shit_.”

Hanzo’s mouth moved, but nothing came out, his brain well on its way to being overloaded. All the prep and lubricant in the world wasn’t enough to ease the intense sensations any, and it must have showed in his expression.

“Hanzo,” McCree murmured, easing up the grip he had on Hanzo’s thighs. His hands drifted up to his hips where his thumbs began rubbing his heated flesh in soothing circles. “Want me to pull out?”

“No,” Hanzo choked out. He was pretty sure he’d collapse in on himself without McCree supporting him - in more ways than one. “Just - give me a moment…”

It had been nearly a decade since he’d last had anyone inside him, and it was only now he was beginning to regret that. He forgot what it was like - the stretching, the feeling of being full. While pleasurable, it was also overwhelming in ways Hanzo wasn’t versed in. For a moment, he was sure he might cry.

McCree sat up on his elbow and touched the side of Hanzo’s flushed face. “Hey, I’m pullin’ out,” he said softly. “It’s only the tip and I don’t think I prepped you enough to take the rest of it - ”

Hanzo’s jaw dropped. “Just the tip?” he blurted, then started shaking his head, officially done. “Get out of me, please.”

McCree did so slowly and carefully, but it still ached when he left him. Hanzo rolled over and sighed, disappointed in himself. “I’m sorry.”

McCree moved onto his side to face him. “What for? Look, darlin’, most folks can’t handle me right off the bat,” he said, flashing a cocky grin before it faded into a disgruntled frown. “Ain’t nobody’s fault but mine. Or my genes, or whatever.”

Hanzo smirked. “If nothing else, it’s a delight to suck on,” he informed him, wrenching a gleeful laugh out of the man that sent sparks of warmth through Hanzo’s body.

“Well, thank god for that,” the cowboy said, grinning. His eyes roved up and down Hanzo’s bare body, his grin taking on a wolfish tint. “Surely there’s somethin’ else I can do for you so you’ll get your money’s worth.”

The mention of cash had Hanzo frowning briefly, but then McCree was moving south, his eyes on Hanzo’s mostly flaccid cock. All it took were a few strokes and some tender licks and pecks to bring it back to life. Hanzo wanted more of that, wanted more of McCree’s devilish tongue writing words across the skin of his cock, but McCree seemed to have other plans.

With a wink, the cowboy slid his hands under Hanzo’s legs and had him curl his knees up to his chest, bending him nearly in half with his ass pointed towards the heavens. Confusion and mild embarrassment seized him until McCree was kneeling, putting his face at the same level.

Then the son of a bitch kissed him right on his hole, which was still puffy and a little sore from attempting to take McCree. Hanzo jerked, keened in surprise, and nearly dislodged McCree from his new position. “What - what are you doing?” he choked out despite knowing full well what the man had planned.

“Has anyone ever done this for you before?” he asked softly in between licks. “Kiss you here?”

Hanzo gurgled out a no, already too overwhelmed to say much more than that. Before McCree, his sex life had been dissatisfying - mostly non-existent, honestly - and very bland. Before McCree, having a tongue up his ass sounded like the dirtiest, most vulgar thing Hanzo had ever heard of.

Now, though, he was quickly devolving into a babbling mess as McCree worked his tongue against him, licking the rim with the flat of his tongue before diving deeper into him. Hanzo’s hands gripped the bedspread, clenching and unclenching as he struggled to figure out where to put them.

“Jesse,” he gasped. “God, that’s - so - ”

“Good?” McCree teased, pulling back so that Hanzo could see his little suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “Amazin’? The best thing you’ve ever felt in all your years?”

Hanzo huffed. “Don’t get cocky,” he grumbled, only to outright moan as McCree’s tongue plunged deeper into him. His hand found purchase in McCree’s thick locks, urging him on.

One of McCree’s fingers slipped easily into his hole alongside his tongue, and then Hanzo was gone, bucking and writhing as McCree fucked him with his mouth and fingers. He tried to imagine it was McCree’s cock, but it was nowhere near the same girth, didn’t stretch him and nudge him in all those marvelous ways. This was nice too, but it left him yearning for something he couldn’t yet have, and that was beyond frustrating.

“Harder,” he ordered breathlessly. “More.”

McCree obliged, sliding in a second finger with little resistance, and then a third at Hanzo’s insistence. So close, he thought, bearing down on McCree’s motions desperately. If he squeezed his eyes shut and let himself go, he could pretend McCree was inside him, filling him, hitting his prostate just right with every thrust.

His orgasm came abruptly, leaving him crying out into his free hand while the other shot to his cock, pumping it frantically. Belatedly he realized if he hadn’t been wearing a condom, a good portion of his own come would have probably nailed him in the face thanks to his bent over position. The thought should not have made him moan the way it did.

McCree came to rest next to Hanzo, smug as all hell. Hanzo immediately rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and reaching behind him so that McCree’s dick could rub between his ass cheeks. He rode him like that, grinding himself back onto the cock he couldn’t yet have until McCree came with a yell, spilling into his own condom.

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’,” McCree slurred, falling slack against the mattress. Hanzo came to rest next to him, practically in liquid form as he slid off McCree’s lap. McCree caught him with a snicker and helped him flop over onto his side so that they were facing each other. “Was it really that good?” he teased.

“It’s always good,” Hanzo told him, reaching for the other man. He buried his face in his shoulder and let out a heavy, content sigh. “I won’t give up, you know.”

He felt McCree go tense. “Hanzo, I told you, I don’t sleep with - ”

“I’m going to take that dick even if it kills me.”

McCree shook the whole bed with his laughter, then rolled over to smother Hanzo’s cheeks and forehead with kisses.

* * *

“I need a favor,” Hanzo told his brother over lunch the next day. He’d barely touched his salad, far too nervous to really eat.

Genji, meanwhile, dunked a fry into the cup of cheese and popped it into his mouth before he bothered answering. “Don’t tell me you need money.”

Hanzo scowled at him. “That’s funny, coming from you,” he muttered. “I need advice. Specifically on where to find certain...goods.”

His brother squinted at him. “Are you - Hanzo, are you asking me where you can buy drugs?”

“Wh - _no_!” Hanzo sputtered, jaw dropping in disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Then don’t talk like you’re trying to be sneaky! Just spit it out. You know you can tell me anything and I won’t judge you.”

Hanzo knew that. Genji was ten times more rambunctious than he was, had done and witnessed things that Hanzo frankly did not want to think about. Still, when he quietly asked his brother where he might find some decent sex toys, he couldn’t help but duck his head in shame and embarrassment.

Genji only grinned and slapped the table with glee. “You’ve come to the right man!” he exclaimed. “Though you probably could have just gone snooping on the internet. You know, to spare yourself the humiliation of asking your little brother for sex advice.”

“I am aware,” he gritted out, still unable to meet Genji’s gaze.

“Well, I’m honored you trust me like this,” Genji said with a solemn nod. “Have no fear, dear brother, I will show you the magical world of dildos so that you might one day ride that American like a horse.”

“Please stop talking.”

* * *

“Oh hell no,” McCree said. “Who put this in the cart?”

He held up a box of cocoa puffs and wiggled it at the three kids currently darting around him in the grocery aisle. Lúcio ducked behind a display, the epitome of a guilty man.

“We’re on a budget, bucko,” McCree reminded him, handing him the cereal. “If it ain’t on Ana’s list, we can’t get it.”

“But it’s healthy,” he whined, dragging his feet as he went to go return the food.

“First: no it ain’t. And second: when have any of you squirts ever been concerned with eatin’ healthy?”

“Since Jack was told to lay off all the carbs,” Hana said, popping her vibrant pink gum with a loud snap. “Weren’t you there for that family meeting yesterday? We can’t even eat potatoes anymore.”

“What?” McCree blurted, horrified. “No potatoes? Shit, guess y’all don’t want me comin’ over for dinner anymore, damn.”

“Jack’s more upset that he can’t have bread,” Lúcio said, skating alongside the shopping cart as McCree pushed it into the next aisle. “Man, I can’t imagine not being able to eat some foods. Getting old sounds awful. Remind me not to do it.”

“I love bread,” McCree stated. “I don’t care what it does to me.”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, jabbing him in his gut, “and it shows.”

McCree flushed and smacked his hand away. “Rude! And here I was willin’ to use my hard-earned cash to buy y’all those nasty boba drinks y’all like so much,” he said, sticking his nose in the air as he pushed the grocery cart past the shocked kids.

A split second later they were giving chase, whining and crying and shoving Jaime into display stands as punishment for ruining their chances at getting a treat.

McCree gave in, of course, and twenty minutes later he and the trio were making their way down the city street towards the bus stop, the kids happily slurping on their weird drinks. Conversation was light and cheery, and not for the first time McCree was wishing he could spend more time with the kids before they weren’t kids anymore. Jaime would be old enough to start driving in another year and a half - a fact that shocked (and frightened) McCree. He had helped diaper the kid, for fuck’s sake.

The sudden stinging sensation of a hand clapping down hard on his ass made him yelp and stumble forward. He whirled around, half-gunning for a fight, when he caught sight of one of his usual clients waving drunkenly at him. Not even noon and the guy already had a half-empty bottle in his hand.

“McCree,” he slurred, grinning toothily, “you open for business yet? Or, heh, I guess I should be asking if your legs are open for - ”

Dropping the bags of groceries, McCree seized him by his shirt and walked him none-too-gently back towards the wall of the closest building. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, and out of earshot of the kids. “I keep my business and my family life separate,” he growled. “Treat me how you like, but don’t you dare bring this shit up near my family. I went to jail once - I’ll do it again if I have to.”

The man nodded, more confused than angry or alarmed, and stumbled off when McCree gave him a shove. He watched him go for a moment, then turned back to the kids, prepared to give them an excuse for his client’s shitty behavior.

Instead, he found them all frowning and giving him a massive collective stinkeye. “What?” he asked.

“Who was that?” Hana demanded.

“An ex-boyfriend?” Jaime suggested, frowning around the half-chewed straw sticking out of his mouth. “Didn’t know scumbags were your type, mate.”

“Does this mean you’re cheating on Hanzo?” Lúcio asked, near tears if his wobbly bottom lip was any indication. “Why would you do that to him?”

McCree stared at the trio, gobsmacked. “I - what? Okay, for the last goddamned time, Hanzo and I are not dating. I dunno how many times I gotta say it til’ y’all fuckin’ believe it.”

“Then who was that guy? How did he know you?” Hana asked.

“Girl, you are far too nosey for your own good.”

“I’m not allowed to be worried?” she fired back, steadily growing more outraged. “Ana and Dad and Jack are all worried about you, too, y’know. They try to hide it from us, but we all know that they sometimes stay up waiting for you when you come in the morning from the bar.” She fixed him with a look. “A bar that closes at two.”

McCree grit his teeth. “Ana and Gabe and Jack need to mind their own goddamned business, too,” he snapped with more venom than he meant to. He was shaken by all of this - knowing that his family was so close to figuring out what his real job was. He never wanted them to come even close to suspecting it, but his parents had always been sharp, and they were raising their kids to be the same.

The bus ride home was sullen and quiet. McCree’s thoughts were glued to his situation and the fact that the kids were now more or less involved. It was bad enough that his parents probably knew. Goddamn, why couldn’t they all just keep their noses out of his business?

Because they love you, the rational side of his brain supplied.

He sighed and shut his eyes. Life was easier when he was an unloved hooligan messing around in illegal weapons trade.

When they made it home, McCree knew he had to mollify the kids before one or more of their parents saw them moping and started questioning them. “Hey,” he said before they could head inside. “I’m sorry for snappin’ at y’all. I know you mean well.”

They stared at him, then shifted their sad gazes to the ground.

“I’m not in trouble,” he lied through a sigh. “I’m tryin’ to fix somethin’ is all. Once it’s fixed, things’ll be different. Better.”

At that, the trio exchanged glances. “Can we help you fix it?” Jamie asked.

McCree huffed out a laugh and ruffled the kid’s wild hair. “Thanks, but no. This is somethin’ I gotta do on my own,” he said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be done soon.”

“ _Then_ will you and Hanzo start dating for real?” Lúcio asked.

McCree burst out laughing, which seemed to put the children at ease. “You guys are more gung-ho about this than I am!”

Jamie shrugged. “He makes you happy,” he said. “You get that same doofy lovestruck look on your face that Jack gets around Gabriel sometimes. Y’know, the one where you’re all...” He tried to mimic the expression, complete with hearts in his eyes and his tongue wedged between his teeth as he grinned like a...well, like a love-struck idiot.

McCree guffawed, feeling himself turning red. “Do not.”

“Do too!” Hana fumbled for her phone. “Look, I took like, fifty pics of it during dinner last week. You look like that in practically half of them - ”

“You what?” McCree snatched the phone out of her hands and began scrolling through the images. There must have been at least two dozen of Hanzo, all taken from the dinner they’d had. Sure enough, at least half of them were of McCree and Hanzo smiling at each other at different times, usually one one was talking. One shot stood out in particular; Hana had taken it from behind McCree as he was speaking, and in the background Hanzo was clearly visible in his seat smiling serenely at him. The next image was practically a mirror, showcasing McCree’s own dumb expression as Hanzo spoke in the foreground.

“Oh,” McCree said softly.

“There! That’s the face!” Jamie howled, jabbing a black-painted finger at McCree. “Christ, you do it even when you see a pic of the guy! S’almost like you’re - ”

The trio whirled on him in unison, their eyes as large as dinner plates. “Jesse,” Hana murmured, “are you _in love_ with Hanzo?”

McCree sputtered and tried to cover up his blush by tugging on the rim of his hat. “Don’t be ridiculous! I haven’t known the guy long enough for that,” he babbled, shoving the phone back into Hana’s hands. “Love’s a big thing. It’s like, one step below tyin’ the knot.”  
  
Lúcio gasped. “So you’re thinking of marrying Hanzo now? Can we come to the wedding?”

“I wanna be the ring bearer!” Jamie shrieked gleefully. “Or the flower boy!”

McCree fell to his knees with an over-dramatic groan and resisted the urge to roll onto the grass in defeat. “Bless your hearts,” he groused. “I guess I should just be glad y’all are for this instead of against it, huh?”

Hana shrugged. “Like we said: as long as you’re happy. I guess it’s a plus that he’s handsome, too,” she added helpfully, grinning. “Even if he is old.”

“Hey, he’s my age,” McCree protested, standing up. “You tryin’ to say somethin’?”

“Yeah, that you’re old,” Jaime said, then dodged the half-assed smack McCree tried to land on him. He cackled and took off into the house with Lúcio and Hana in hot pursuit, groceries in hand.

McCree watched them go, wistful, before he sat down on the steps and pulled out his crumpled pack of cigarettes. After lighting one and getting his first hit of nicotine, he took his phone and called his boss.

“Hey,” he said through a sigh. “I’m kickin’ shit into overdrive. If a client calls, book ‘em wherever I got the time. Put me back on the website, too.”

“Gonna burn yourself out like last time,” Bogdan told him, sounding amused by the prospect instead of concerned.

Behind him through the screen door, McCree could hear his family chattering excitedly with each other as they put away the groceries. “Worth it,” he rasped.


	6. Chapter 6

As luck would have it, Hanzo’s life became extremely busy not long after purchasing some _supplies_ that would help him get control over a specific part of his sex life. Perhaps the only plus side was that McCree’s life seemed to be just as busy, as the few times Hanzo called for a sporadic meeting, McCree’s boss had informed him that his schedule was full.

The continued playing appointment tag for almost three weeks. The one time Hanzo was sure they’d finally worked something out, a client had called him seeking his employment on a task he needed to do some extensive research on. And of course, he got the semi-frantic call twenty minutes before McCree was scheduled to show up.

“I’m so sorry,” Hanzo blurted as he opened the door for the man and explained the situation.

McCree just tilted his hat at him and offered a tired grin. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’,” he said. “I can help you de-stress if you like.”

Hanzo shook his head, knowing a romp with McCree would knock him out for the rest of the night. “I’m on a deadline,” he said. “I’ll still pay you for your company.”

McCree frowned, but didn’t protest as Hanzo ushered him into the living room with a beer and control over the television. Hanzo hurried back to his study, locked into work-mode, and spent the rest of the evening researching and sketching out the client’s request.

He only snapped out of it around ten o’clock when his bladder threatened him with physical humiliation if he didn’t haul ass to the bathroom. He took care of business, then chanced a peek into the living room, wondering what McCree was up to, if the man had even stuck around. Hanzo had booked him for the night, but he wouldn’t have been upset with him for taking off. Disappointed, yes, but he understood that the situation was not in their favor.

The living room was empty, the lights and TV turned off. There wasn’t a thing out of order. Hanzo’s first instinct was to assume McCree had never come over to begin with and he had just hallucinated it all, but common sense told him to head to the bedroom.

Sure enough, he found McCree sitting on his bed, butt naked save for his hat and legs spread obscenely wide as he pumped one of Hanzo’s new toys in and out of himself. The sight made Hanzo freeze in the doorway, wide-eyed as McCree met his gaze.

“Didn’t know you had toys,” he said, licking hips lips. “No offense, but you don’t look like the sorta guy who’d use ‘em.”

Hanzo ducked his head. “I want to ride you eventually, remember? They’re to get me used to accommodating you when the time comes,” he said.

McCree froze for half a second, cool exterior cracking. “They’re to - _shit_ ,” he sighed, spreading his legs further as he resumed pumping the toy in and out of him, now with a half-frenzied rush. “Fuck me, darlin’, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and not deliver nothin’.”

“I told you I can’t.” Even so, Hanzo was moving closer, gaze hungry. He sat down in the plush chair beneath the window and crossed his legs - the epitome of a stern-faced businessman considering a deal. “But don’t stop on my account.”

McCree nearly whimpered as he spread his legs further, trying to accommodate more of the toy. It was one of the larger ones Hanzo had bought, closer to McCree’s own cock size. Hanzo hadn’t yet been able to take it, so it was nice to see it being used.

“Talk to me, darlin’,” McCree begged, toes curling. “Your voice does some amazin’ shit to me, didja know that?”

Hanzo smirked. “I had a hunch after the one time I made you come by whispering Japanese into your ear,” he mused.

McCree bit his lip around a grin. “You never told me what that meant,” he said.

“I didn’t,” Hanzo agreed. He’d only called him beautiful, but he enjoyed teasing the man - in more ways than one. “You have some strange fetishes, Mr. McCree.”

That wrenched a laugh out of the cowboy. “You don’t know the half of it, sugar.”

“I bet I can guess.” Hanzo sat back in his seat, contemplating. “Well, I can certainly imagine you bound, arms tied behind your back and your ass in the air for me to inspect. Would you like that, Mr. McCree? Being bound and at my mercy?”

McCree moaned, jerking his hips in time with the toy. “Fuck - I don’t normally - for you, darlin’, I might,” he babbled, tilting his head back. Hanzo wondered if he was imagining the same situation as he was.

A thought struck him suddenly as he watched McCree twist and pump the dildo in and out of himself. “If that isn’t to your liking, I have something else you might enjoy,” he said, rising to his feet. He rummaged through the bedside table where he kept the rest of his new toys and handed McCree a small white one with a bulbous tip that curved upwards. To the untrained eye, it looked like a useless device. “I haven’t had the chance to try this one yet, but I’ve heard it does wonders in terms of shorting out one’s brain.”

McCree took the toy and frowned at it. “Doesn’t seem like it’ll do much. Hardly got any girth to it.”

Indeed, compared to the toy he was using now, the new one was nothing more than a finger’s worth of pleasure. Still, McCree humored him and slicked it up with lube before sliding it inside himself, only grunting a little as it settled quite comfortably into place against his perineum.

“Well?” Hanzo asked.

McCree’s face scrunched up as he considered the new toy. “It ain’t nothin’ fancy,” he reported, flexing his ass. “Feels weird against my - oh. _Oh_.” His jaw dropped and his chest heaved with a startled gasp. He flexed his ass again, jostling the toy enough to make it rub against his prostate. “Christ alive, I’m - it - Jesus.”

“Good?” Hanzo murmured, hiding a smirk behind his steepled hands as he braced his elbows on his knees. “You certainly look like you’re having fun now.”

McCree spat out honest-to-god gibberish as he started unconsciously thrusting his hips in time with his clenches. The wide-eyed look of surprise had faded into a look of pure pleasure, eyes rolling his his head and his tongue practically loling out of his mouth. Hanzo swallowed hard at the sight of him coming undone and had to dig his nails into his thighs to keep himself from joining him.

The cowboy came in mere seconds, hand barely on his cock. Hanzo watched, beyond pleased, as McCree bucked and writhed and howled his name with his release. He half-expected the man to grunt out some sarcastic rebuttal to Hanzo’s sass, but McCree went limp against the bed, panting and already half unconscious. By the time Hanzo carefully removed the toy from him, McCree was actually asleep.

“Good boy,” Hanzo murmured to him, brushing his hair off his sweaty brow. McCree mumbled something in his sleep, and Hanzo flicked off the light as he returned to work for a few more minutes.

Around midnight, he came back to find McCree surprisingly still conked out, his face mushed into his one arm while the other dangled off the edge of the bed. Hanzo had never seen him with his guard down like this before; after a quick shower, he eagerly joined him, carefully spooning up behind the man. He knew he should have woken McCree, but he was clearly exhausted, Hanzo reasoned semi-desperately. He’d enjoy this while he could.

* * *

McCree woke with a jolt to find himself in an unfamiliar environment. He was twenty seconds away from losing his shit when he noticed he was in bed with someone - Hanzo. The other man was dead asleep next to him, clothed in a t-shirt and boxer briefs, and drooling happily into the pillow beneath his head.

All of McCree’s anxieties swept out of him at the sight, if only for a moment. He reached over to brush a wayward strand of hair out of Hanzo's eyes, earning a grumpy grumble out of him before he rolled over and away.

With a sigh, McCree checked the clock on the bedside table - nearing one in the morning. Not too bad, he wagered, relaxing a little. It had been nearing midnight when Hanzo had come into the bedroom to join him.

In the distance, he could hear a faint tingling - his phone was going off from where he’d left it in the bathroom. After carefully dislodging himself from the bed successfully leaving Hanzo undisturbed, he hurried to answer it.

“What?” he hissed into the receiver. “I’m with a client, you prick.”

“Someone’s cranky,” Bogdan cooed nastily.

He was also feeling like shit; his head was killing him and he was a tad dizzy, but he chalked it up to essentially having a week of non-stop fucking. “I take it you’re callin' for a reason,” he snapped.

“Rutledge is here. Wants to know if you’re up for a quickie.”

McCree squeezed his eyes shut. “Fine,” he said. “Be there in an hour.”

“Make it half.”

“You - ” A dial tone met McCree’s ears, and he very nearly flung his cellphone into the sink in a fit of rage.

He dressed, took the money Hanzo left out for him, and made his way back to the bar, having to walk because the buses didn’t run this late and he didn’t want to waste money on a taxi. It was a slow walk; every step was agony on his head. He stopped at a 7-Eleven to grab some aspirin, but it didn’t have the chance to kick in before he made it back to the bar.

Unfortunately Rutledge was still waiting for him when he showed up, stoic as ever. He wasn’t mean, but he was a huge dude and naturally rough whenever he fucked McCree, and he never cared if McCree finished or not. This time was no different; he didn’t bother to take McCree somewhere else for a decent fuck - they did it right in the bar bathroom within earshot of the few remaining patrons. Afterwards, Rutledge handed Bogdan a wad of cash and left without further fanfare.

It was almost four in the morning by the time McCree made it home. He wobbled up the steps to the front door, concerned that he was going to pass out. He was slick with sweat that was definitely from a fever, and his head was spinning so badly it took him three tries to put the key in the lock.

The door swung open out of his hands. Gabriel stood on the other side of it, wide eyed and wrapped in his skull and crossbones bathrobe that Hana had gotten for him last Christmas. “Jesse?” he questioned, brows creasing with concern. “Where the hell have you been?”

McCree blinked at him and tried to speak, but his tongue was mush in his mouth. In that same moment, the world around him began to blur and tilt, and the next thing he knew, he was slipping into a cold, lonely darkness.

* * *

The first indication that something was wrong came when Hanzo called the Deadlock Saloon for McCree and his boss informed him that he hadn’t heard from him all day. That wasn’t unusual, the man rumbled, but not being in contact with him meant that Bogdan was only able to add Hanzo to a queue.

Hanzo hung up, feeling dejected and worried that perhaps he had made a mistake not waking McCree up the other night.

To keep himself preoccupied, he headed to the local grocery store to pick up a few things he didn’t really need. As luck would have it, he ran into Jack Morrison and his three foster kids while waiting in line. Lúcio spotted him first and skated over to him, his grin not quite reaching his eyes.

“Hi, Hanzo,” he said. Even his voice was quieter, not as enthusiastic.

“Hello, Lúcio. Are you all right?”

The kid perked up a little, seemingly surprised that Hanzo noticed he was down. “Just worried about Jesse,” he said, frowning and kicking his skate at the tiled flooring. “Are you worried, too?”

“What’s wrong with Jesse?” Hanzo asked carefully, turning his worried gaze to Jack as the man came over.

The old soldier shook his head. “Gabe said he passed out this morning,” he muttered. “Rushed him to the hospital. Doc says it’s a combination of dehydration and exhaustion.”

Hanzo paled. He knew full-well what caused that dreadful combination to culminate in McCree and it upset him that he was partially responsible for his collapse. “Will he recover?” he rasped.

“Oh yeah,” Jack told him, waving off his concern. “He’s in good hands. Don’t suppose you know why he’s run himself ragged, do you?”

The man fixed him with that piercing stare of his - the one that said “I know you know something but can’t prove it.” Hanzo averted his gaze as he told him he didn’t know, and thankfully Jack left it at that, though it was clear he wasn’t convinced.

“Has this happened before?” Hanzo asked.

“Once.” Jack looked at the kids, who were now fighting over one of the gumball machines by the storefront windows. “Jaime was brought to us without a prosthetic arm. Previous guardians couldn’t afford one, and we couldn’t either at the time. So Jesse started working harder, trying to bring in more money so we could buy him one that was halfway decent. Damn near killed him, but he helped a lot.”

Hanzo felt his chest get tight with emotion for this man he wasn’t supposed to get attached to. “He’s a good man,” he mumbled, earning a cocked eyebrow from Jack.

“He is,” he agreed softly. “Do you want to go see him? I’m sure he’s awake and insufferable by now.”

Of course he did, but Hanzo knew he would only scold the man for being so reckless, and he certainly didn’t need that on top of all his other woes. “You said he is in good hands. I don’t want to overwhelm him,” he said. “Will he be there long?”

“Nah, should be out today, probably this evening. We know the doctor treating him, so we’re all pretty confident he’ll be up and about in no time.”

“Good.” Hanzo breathed a small sigh of relief. Hopefully McCree would come visit him as soon as he was feeling capable, if only to just prove he was okay.

“Did you pick a date yet?” Hana asked suddenly, appearing next to them with an armful of capsules. Jack hissed and patted his pockets, realizing too late that his kids had nicked all his spare change if not more so.

“A date?” Hanzo echoed.

Lúcio came up and offered Hanzo a capsule with a fake, hideous ring topped with a ruby jewel inside it. “For the wedding,” he explained, grinning. “Here, you can give Jesse this. Red’s his favorite color.”

“ _Wedding_?” Hanzo blurted, nearly dropping the capsule in shock. “What wedding?”

“For you and Jesse, duh,” Hana said, rolling her eyes.

Hanzo stared at them. “Has he spoken of marriage?” he asked quietly.

The trio shrugged. “Not yet,” Jamie said, waggling his eyebrows. “We might’ve put the idea in his noggin’, though. You’re welcome.”

The very thought short-circuited Hanzo’s brain for a good ten seconds. Marriage usually meant that there was love involved. Did McCree love him? What else had he discussed with his siblings? There were too many unknowns to really be sure of anything, but that didn’t keep his chest from fluttering or a smile from snaking its way onto his lips.

“Hah! There’s the face!” Jamie squealed, jabbing a finger at Hanzo’s nose. “You both get all gross and lovey-dovey when you think of each other.”

“Meant to be,” Lúcio agreed with a laugh.

“Kids,” Jack drawled, rolling his eyes skyward. “It’s none of your business whether or not Jesse and Hanzo get hitched. Stop trying to play matchmaker.”

“Well they clearly need help,” Hana muttered as Jack ushered them towards the door. They said their hasty goodbyes, and Hanzo waved back with the hand not clutching the small capsule, still too stunned to do much more than that.

* * *

When McCree came to, he was in a hospital bed. IVs and other medical doodads were sticking out of him, including a catheter, to his horror and embarrassment. He chanced a peek at it beneath the starchy sheets and let out a groan at the sight, immediately regretting it. God, he hated hospitals.

“Good, you’re awake.”

McCree turned his head to find Angela striding into the room, her white doctor’s coat flapping with the movement. The woman looked tired, as usual, but there was a gleam in her gaze that suggested she was happy to see him conscious.

“Angie,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. “What am I doin’ here?”

“You don’t remember?” the doctor asked, brows rising with mild concern. “Gabriel called an ambulance after you passed out on their doorstep this morning. You’re suffering from dehydration and exhaustion.”

“Shit.” He’s been cooped up here for over a day? The thought of how much money he’d missed out on made him groan and cover his face. On the bright side, at least he could schedule another test or two just to make sure he was still clean. “When can I get outta here?”

“Give it until the end of the day,” Angela said, patting his leg. “If only to put Gabriel at ease. Poor man’s been pacing around like a raging bull since he brought you in.”

Great, one more thing to feel guilty about. “He still here?”

“In the waiting room, yes. Want me to fetch him?”

“You’re the doctor. You tell me what lettin’ him in’ll do to my health.”

Angela tsked playfully at him. “ _You_ will be fine, provided you stay hydrated and slow down. It’s Gabriel who’s going to have blood pressure issues after all of this, I’m sure,” she kindly informed him. “Sit tight, I’ll send him in.”

Though McCree’s self-preservation instincts were urging him to tell Angela not to, he let her go, and a moment later Gabriel appeared in the doorway, red-faced and huffing. Fella looked like he was running on three hours of sleep.

“You dumb shit,” he spat.

McCree huffed a quiet laugh. “Nice to see you too, Pa.”

“You all right? And don’t you dare think about bullshitting me,” Gabriel added hastily. “Angela said it was exhaustion. How many hours are you working these days, mijo?”

McCree gritted his teeth at the term of endearment. When he was a kid, using it was a sure-fire way to get him to confess to anything. Thankfully those days were long gone, buried under the dirt and grit he’d accumulated from working for the Deadlock gang.

“I’m fine,” he stated. “Just worked a little too hard with not enough breaks for water. Ain’t a big deal.”

“Not a big - Jesse, I watched your eyes roll into the back of your fucking head as you passed out on the front step! You almost bashed your brains out on the railing! How the fuck is you working yourself half to death not a big deal?”

“It’s fine,” McCree snapped. “It won’t happen again.”

Gabriel cursed and scowled at the tiled floor under his boots. “You’re a stubborn piece of shit, you know that?”

McCree just cracked a tired, toothy grin. “Learned from the best.”

“Puh.” Gabriel sighed heavily, his anger rushing out of him with one exhale. “I’m gonna go home and tell everyone else they can stop panicking now. I already told Angela to call me when it was time for you to get discharged, so don’t bother trying to sneak out.”

At that, McCree frowned. Gabriel knew him too well sometimes.

As soon as his foster dad left, McCree found his cell phone tucked away with his clothes next to the bed. He fished it out and frowned at the numerous missed calls and texts, most from his boss but also a handful from the kids wishing that he’d feel better soon. He bypassed those in favor of calling up the Deadlock Saloon.

“Anything?” he asked Bogdan as soon as the man picked up, sparing both of them any snide pleasantries.

“Two for ya if ya want ‘em, including that Asian guy.”

“Just tell me when and where.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm on tumblr!](http://vickjawn.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thank you to everyone who's left a comment and kudos!! I appreciate y'all even taking the time to look at this fic. :')

Hanzo didn’t expect McCree to show up on his doorstep that night, seemingly fresh out of the hospital. Judging by the way he looked - hunched over, disheveled with dark circles under his eyes - he probably should have stayed there a little longer. Any and all glee Hanzo had felt at the prospect of seeing him trickled out of him at the sight.

“Jesse?” he cautioned as the man shuffled forward, made his way past him and upstairs into the bedroom. Hanzo followed and watched, worried, as the man crawled under the covers and laid there, an unmoving mass.

Slowly Hanzo sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked quietly, mindful of why McCree had been hospitalized to begin with.

“No,” McCree muttered.

When the man said nothing more, Hanzo went to putter around the house, occasionally poking his head back in the bedroom to check on him. The third time, he heard McCree’s snores coming from beneath the blanket. Hanzo nearly entertained the idea of joining him before common sense talked him out of it. It was clear the man needed sleep; his presence was sure to wake him.

Eventually he stepped into the kitchen and began preparing a late dinner - something simple in case McCree was legitimately ill on top of being exhausted. He scrambled some eggs and tossed in some shredded ham and cheese, hoping that McCree didn’t have an aversion to any of those things.

He was just finishing up when McCree appeared in the doorway, still disheveled and pale. He eyed the two plates Hanzo was filling with food. “Aw, darlin’,” he rasped, reaching up to rub his eye. “You ain’t payin’ me to - ”

“Please sit,” Hanzo said, gesturing to the chair opposite of him.

McCree sighed in defeat and shuffled over to the table. He looked ready to keep on protesting until he got a whiff of the food. His brows raised as he picked up a fork and started to eat, humming with appreciation.

Hanzo watched, occasionally picking at his own meal. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

“‘Bout what?”

“I ran into Jack and the children earlier today. They told me what happened - how you passed out and had to be hospitalized.”

McCree huffed and shoveled another spoonful of eggs into his mouth. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered. “Just puttin’ in too much overtime at work.”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Hanzo told him bluntly, starting to lose his patience with how blasé he was being about the incident. “I told you once before you need to make time for yourself. No amount of money is worth driving yourself to the brink of exhaustion.”

“Sure, _mom_ , I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hanzo scowled, bearing his teeth. “McCree,” he snapped, and the man recoiled, knowing he’d crossed a line. “Why is it so hard for you to accept the fact that we’re all worried about you?”

“It ain’t that,” he muttered, slouching in his seat as he stared blearily down at the remains of his meal. He looked exhausted again, pale and small despite his hulking stature.

Hanzo reigned in his anger, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation any. “I can’t imagine it’s easy,” he admitted softly, “doing what you do. It takes a strength I don’t think many people have.”

That had McCree glancing up at him again, eyes wide. “Huh. Never heard anyone call us whores ‘strong’ before. Most folks think we do it ‘cos we’re, well, whores.”

“Why do you do it, Mr. McCree?” Hanzo asked.

McCree met his gaze. For a moment Hanzo was sure this was it - he had finally overstepped a boundary and had ruined whatever he and McCree had going on. Then the man sighed and slouched in his seat with defeat.

“I have a debt to repay,” he said so quietly Hanzo would have missed it if he’d been chewing. “The folks that run Deadlock dug me out of a shitty situation years ago. Like,” he hesitated, averted his gaze in shame as he admitted, “I was on my way to the dog house when they paid my dues and got me out. But now I owe ‘em a ton of money and the fastest way to make it all back is to do what I do.”

Hanzo stared at him, horrified. Gabriel had been right about McCree being in trouble, but this was so much worse than Hanzo thought. “There is no other way? Can you not work in the bar - ”

“I’d be makin’, what, a hundred bucks a day includin’ tip? Whorin’ myself out gets me at least three hundred per person, and I do at least two a day, more if I’m lucky. It sucks, but I need to pay off this debt as soon as possible to get the fuck outta there. Deadlock is bad news and I can’t have that shit spreadin’ to my family.”

At least Hanzo could agree with that much. “How much do you still owe?”

McCree opened his mouth to answer, then he froze and sent Hanzo a vicious stink-eye, like he knew what he was thinking. “Less than a quarter of what I initially owed,” he said. “Another six months and I’ll be free as a goddamned bird if I don’t have any other expenses crop up before then.”

“I’m glad,” Hanzo said truthfully even though the mere thought of not having McCree around anymore made his chest ache. His pain must have shown in his expression because McCree was suddenly reaching across the table to take his hand.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “I know I said it sucks - and it does - but some good things have come out of it. Like you.” He hesitated for half a second, bashful. “You’re my favorite client, you know that? And not just ‘cos you never leave me unsatisfied. I feel safe with you. You never leave me feelin’ dirty or gross like most of my other clients.”

Hanzo’s face was almost as red as McCree’s. This news on top of what he’d learned earlier made his head spin with pleasure. “I...see…”

“Shit.” Abruptly McCree released Hanzo’s hand and sat back, covering his eyes. “I went and made this awkward now, didn’t I? Goddammit, just forget I said anythin’, aw’right?”

But Hanzo didn’t want that. “When you pay off your debt,” he blurted in a frantic rush, “will I still see you?”

McCree stared at him, his expression open and stunned. “If - if you want,” he said softly, slowly becoming more downcast. “Can’t imagine anyone wantin’ to be with someone who’s been with half the damn town, though.”

Hanzo carefully reached out and took McCree’s hand again, their fingers lacing together with the lightest of touches. “When you are done,” he murmured shakily, “I’ll be waiting for you, if you want me.”

A wet sigh of pure relief escaped McCree, who lunged around the table to grab the other man up in his arms. “Darlin’, I’ve wanted you since you sat my dumbass down in the tub to wash me,” he choked out into Hanzo’s neck. “Maybe even before then.”

The revelation had Hanzo letting out a desperate noise as he returned McCree’s hug with a crushing one of his own. The man’s warmth enveloped him in a way it never had before, leaving him content and vibrating with glee.

Eventually McCree pulled back, but he didn’t break contact. His hands came to rest on either side of Hanzo’s face, and for one hopeful second Hanzo was sure that - finally - they were about to kiss. Their foreheads came to rest against each other. Hanzo could smell the eggs on McCree’s breath, but the man didn’t move closer so he could taste it on his tongue. He was still a client, after all, and rules were rules.

Hanzo was the one who pulled away first to clear the table of dishes, if only to distract himself from doing anything foolish. As he was washing them, McCree came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“What’re we doin’ tonight, sugar?” he purred, kissing the space behind his ear.

Hanzo pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “How does more Kitchen Nightmares sound? Netflix finally uploaded season two.”

The cowboy huffed out a quiet laugh and leaned his forehead against Hanzo’s neck, practically slumping against him. “Perfect.”

* * *

“I don’t get it.”

Hanzo snorted awake, and jerked a little, nearly dislodging McCree from where he was draped across the other man’s lap. “What?” he mumbled, digging his palm into his eye.

McCree wiggled Hanzo’s handheld game thing, which looked obnoxiously tiny in his massive hands. “Isn’t this some weird level of animal cruelty? Capturin’ ‘em and makin’ ‘em fight for you?”

“They’re pixels,” Hanzo told him, frowning.

“Still! Don’t seem right.”

Hanzo scoffed and let his head lean against the back of the couch. “Have you seen the horse one yet?” he asked through another yawn.

McCree couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. “There’re horses?”

Hanzo took the game from him, fiddled with it, then handed it back. McCree grinned at the little animated horse that was now on the screen. “Aw, lookit the little guy!” he cooed. “Ponyta - aw, it’s a _pony_? Even cuter.”

“You are so strange,” Hanzo mumbled, laying a hand on McCree’s head to absently run his fingers through his hair.

“How come it doesn’t got a nickname like that big-mouthed dragon-lookin’ one you got?”

“Because I don’t need it in my party. I can have it renamed if you want. What would you call it?”

McCree pursed his lips. “Junkrat,” he decided.

That had Hanzo sputtering out a laugh. “Such a crude name for a creature you like so much,” he commented, smiling down at him.

“It’s Jaime’s nickname,” McCree explained, grinning back up at the man. “The kid likes fire. The horse is made of fire. Totally makes sense.”

“If you say so.”

They fell back into a comfortable silence with Hanzo dozing off and McCree still fiddling with the handheld game he didn’t understand in the slightest. Gordon Ramsay was yelling to some dumb restaurant owners, the volume turned down just enough to make it sound more like an angry neighbor was going off next door.

It was the most relaxed McCree had been in days. He’d gotten so much off his chest that he felt ready to ascend into the heavens, or maybe just melt into a content puddle in Hanzo’s lap. It felt so natural to just laze about with Hanzo like this, their bellies full of delicious food and spirits high from the good company and prospect of maybe one day having it be like this for them all the time. It made McCree want to push even harder to pay off his debt, but he knew it would only wind up with him in the hospital again, and that wouldn’t help anyone.

Six more months, he thought, sighing. If he stayed at his usual pace, he’d be free in six months, give or take. He and Hanzo could be together, no strings attached. The thought made his spirit soar.

Said spirit came crashing back down to earth when Hanzo’s phone suddenly went off three feet from his head. He yelped as Hanzo jerked awake and almost dislodged him from his lap in his frenzy to answer it.

“Sorry,” Hanzo said quickly, then pressed the accept call button. “Shimada.”

McCree couldn’t make out what was being said on the other end, and he realized why when Hanzo started replying in Japanese. Usually McCree loved it when the man spoke in his native language, but this time his voice was sharp instead of soothing, cold instead of coy.

The conversation went on, and Hanzo got angrier, rising to his feet and beginning to pace around the room. Half of McCree wanted to snatch the phone out of his grasp and tell whoever was on the other end to piss the hell off, but he didn’t want to risk screwing up a potential business deal or whatever. By the time he hung up, even Gordon Ramsay couldn’t hold a candle to the rage showing through on Hanzo’s face.

“Darlin’?” McCree questioned. “Y’all right?”

“Fine,” Hanzo snapped, tossing his phone none too gently onto the coffee table.

“You don’t look fine. Shit at work?”

Hanzo’s mouth opened and closed several times, like he was gearing up to tell McCree to step off, but he wound up slumping with defeat and staring blankly down at the space between them, anger vanishing in the blink of an eye.

McCree immediately felt bad for pushing. “You don’t gotta say nothin’ if you don’t want to, sugar.”

Hanzo shook his head as he moved back onto the couch with him. “You were open with me. It’s only fair I trust you as well,” he said quietly. “You know I’m from Japan. I never told you I was the heir to a huge business over there, one comprised of members of my family’s clan. My father…”

Hanzo’s hands started to shake. McCree wordlessly reached over and took the closest one in his, smoothing his thumb over Hanzo’s knuckles until the man collected himself enough to continue.

“My father raised my brother and I to be pawns for the business. Since I was able to walk, he and the elders had been preparing me to step in for him when the time came. That wouldn’t have been an issue if they hadn’t started twisting my mind about my brother and mother. I guess they noticed how attached I was to the both of them - which I know now was only natural, since I wasn’t allowed to socialize outside the castle grounds with anyone else and my father gave me no affection whatsoever. They tried to make me believe that they were only holding me back, that because my brother was more free-spirited than I was, he would destroy me alongside himself.”

Hanzo swallowed hard and shut his eyes, his grip on McCree’s hand tightening briefly. “They nearly succeeded. It pains me to think about how close they were to having me completely bend to their will.”

McCree bit his lip and wrapped his arm around the other man, frowning at just how badly he was trembling. “But you got away,” he said quietly. “What got you outta there? Your brother?”

Hanzo nodded. “Father died, and I realized quite suddenly that I didn’t want to be a part of his business. I liked geometry and designing things. My brother was the only person who had stuck by me, supported my secret hobbies and likes, and he was able to convince me to leave Japan with him. I owe him so much, and yet…”

“Yet?”

“I had been manipulated since birth, and I am still recovering from it. Sometimes I look at my brother and catch myself thinking how much easier my life would have been if he hadn’t opened my eyes to the truth. I nearly hate him, and it frightens me.”

“Shit, hon,” McCree mumbled, stunned. “I had no idea.”

That got a tired smirk out of the other man. “It’s not something I tend to broadcast,” he pointed out. “I would be content to forget it ever happened, but sometimes I get calls from clan members - those still involved with the dead empire, at any rate - who try to get me to return home. It’s frustrating, to say the least.”

“I bet.” McCree pulled him closer and set his chin on the man’s head when he leaned it against him. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got outta there. I whine about not knowin’ my parents or whatever, but not knowin’ ‘em might be better than havin’ ‘em and dealin’ with their abuse.”

Hanzo hummed. “I have very few memories of my mother,” he said quietly. “She died when I was very young.”

“Huh.” McCree rubbed his chin. “Guess we got that in common, then. Goddamn shame.”

“Indeed.”

McCree pulled Hanzo closer, now officially depressed all over again. Amidst his own problems, he didn’t stop to think if Hanzo had his own. “Well, that brought the mood down, didn’t it?” he mumbled.

Hanzo merely chuckled and sat up, dislodging himself from McCree’s grasp. “I know what might make things better,” he rumbled as he straddled McCree’s thighs. “If you’re up to it, that is.”

McCree burst out laughing. “Darlin’, I’m pretty sure you could hogtie me and leave me on some train tracks and I’d be a-okay with it,” he said, reaching up to grab the man’s hips.

“If that’s what you’re into,” Hanzo murmured, slowly grinding down onto McCree’s crotch. He kissed McCree’s ear, then whispered, “But right now, I’d much rather ride you.”

* * *

Hanzo could almost hear the circuits in McCree’s brain shorting out as he took him by the hands and pulled him upstairs into the bedroom. He promptly tossed McCree onto his bed, making the man bounced with a semi-nervous laugh.

“You been practicin’?” McCree asked, grinning and licking his lips as Hanzo started to disrobe.

“Every night when I have the time,” Hanzo told him, shrugging out of his shirt. “I’ve made it to the last level. Now I just need to beat the final boss.”

“That’s...good?” McCree cocked a brow, not quite understanding the lingo, but didn’t question it further as Hanzo, now fully nude, climbed on top of him and began to help him disrobe.

Hanzo was subtly pleased that McCree hadn’t moved without his permission, even to get undressed. He didn’t bother with the man’s shirt besides tear it open, almost ripping the buttons off. McCree didn’t seem to mind, as he was too distracted now by Hanzo’s hands deftly undoing his belt and pants.

Despite their eagerness, they spared no expense when it came to preparing Hanzo for taking it. McCree pumped one of Hanzo’s larger toys in and out of him for a while, stretching him carefully and applying as much lube as necessary to keep him teetering on that thin line between pain and pleasure. Hanzo knew that if McCree kept at it, kept looking at him through those half lidded eyes and murmuring sweet nothings into his thigh, he wouldn’t last long, so he took matters into his own hands and climbed back on top of the other man, wielding the now half-empty bottle of lube.

McCree let him take the reins; Hanzo slicked him up, then settled over him, guiding McCree’s cock towards his hole. The head popped in easier than Hanzo thought it would, but that was hardly half the battle. He took a deep, steadying breath, and slowly, bit by bit, Hanzo took all of McCree. It took longer than he liked, even with the preparation and training, but Hanzo knew better than to rush something like this. He wanted both of them to enjoy it.

Finally, he came to rest completely on McCree’s groin, his dick tucked completely inside him. Hanzo sucked in several deep breaths as he realized just how full he really was. He felt ready to split in half, though the pain had become nothing more than a distant throb at this point thanks to their careful preparation.

He touched a hand to his lower belly, imagining for a brief second that he could actually feel the head of McCree’s cock through his skin.

“Fuck,” McCree gasped, writhing a little beneath him as he struggled not to thrust up into the tight heat.

“That’s the idea,” Hanzo gritted out, giving a tentative cant of his hips that sent McCree into a sputtering fit and a small burst of pleasure up Hanzo’s spine. It was still a tad too overwhelming to move the way Hanzo wanted to, but he could be patient. It was McCree who looked ready to pass out.

“How do I feel?” he asked, trying to keep distracted. He could feel his erection flagging and it irritated him.

“Good,” McCree said immediately, head tilted back on the pillows. He looked gorgeous, all flushed and sweaty, and it gave Hanzo satisfaction to know that he was responsible for it. “So good, darlin’, you’re so tight, goddamn.”

“Do you want to move?”

“Please,” McCree moaned, tensing his thigh muscles but staying still regardless, still somehow half cognizant enough to remember that it was Hanzo’s decision to make. “No, wait, no, I’ll come in ten seconds if you let me, don’t do it.”

Hanzo chuckled. “I think you can hold out,” he told him as he shifted a little, still trying to get used to the girth inside him. He was nearly there. “You have that rule, don’t you? About coming before a customer?”

McCree groaned through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whined.

“What a way to go, though.” Hanzo lifted himself up half an inch, then brought himself back down, fucking himself slowly and carefully on McCree’s dick.

He repeated the process slowly several times until he was comfortable enough to move faster, go harder, deeper. McCree stretched him deliciously and hit him in all the right places; it was only a matter of time until Hanzo was gasping and riding him freely, chasing down his own pleasure as fast as he could.

McCree was no better off. As Hanzo started to ride him in earnest, his hands came up off the mattress to grip Hanzo’s hips, trying to give it to him harder. Hanzo batted them away and pinned them back to the mattress with his hands, lacing his fingers through McCree’s as he leaned over the man to pant into his neck. McCree tilted his head into Hanzo’s hair, babbling and crying out words of encouragement.

“Gonna come,” McCree whimpered, unconsciously jerking his hips up hard enough to make Hanzo cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Hanzo let go of McCree’s hands so he could wrap his arms around his neck and grind down on the other man’s crotch, sending his cock deeper than ever before. “Not yet,” Hanzo pleaded wetly. He was so close, he was _so close_ …

Despite Hanzo’s plea, McCree snapped first, spilling into the condom and yelling so loudly that Hanzo was sure the neighbor next door could hear him. Hanzo sat back and rode him as hard as he could, trying to eke out as much of his own pleasure as possible before McCree started to go soft. The added stimulation only made McCree moan louder, grip his hips tighter, but it wasn’t enough to push Hanzo over the edge.

McCree seemed to realize this as he came back down. Babbling apologies, one of his hands flew to Hanzo’s cock, stroking it just the way he liked. One last thrust up nailed Hanzo’s prostate perfectly, sending him over the edge with a wail he couldn’t contain even if he wanted to.

Seconds or minutes or maybe hours later for all Hanzo could tell, McCree’s hands found him, gently turning him onto his side while simultaneously pulling out of him. Hanzo groaned at the feeling of being empty and went to curl in on himself, but McCree wouldn’t let him escape completely as he came at him with a warm wash cloth from the bathroom. He cleaned him up and soothed him with soft words, and Hanzo swore he was never so content in his life.

“You did it, darlin’,” McCree told him quietly, beaming down at him as he finished up. “You were so good.”

Hanzo echoed the man’s grin with a tired one of his own. “Will you stay?” he asked. “As punishment for coming before I did?”

That had McCree chuckling. “Hardly a punishment.” He glanced at the bedside table clock, which was reading ten fifteen. “I’ll stay for a lil’ while, yeah. I promised Ma I’d be home before midnight. They’re all waitin’ to see me.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened. “Did you not go to them as soon as you were released from the hospital?”

“They know where I am. I wanted to see you first.”

McCree smiled as Hanzo’s face turned a marvelous shade of red. “I’m honored,” he mumbled, trying to turn over to hide his pleased blush. McCree had none of that and all but flattened Hanzo under him as he tried to plant obnoxious kisses on the man’s face. “Get off, you heavy bastard.”

“Wow, babe, first you complain I never stick around, now you want me to go?” McCree started to withdraw. “Fine, I see how it is.”

Hanzo grumbled low in his throat as he flipped over and wrapped his arms around McCree’s hips, tugging him back to bed. “Stay,” he ordered. “For now.”

McCree grinned and settled into the blankets with Hanzo spooning up behind him. “For now,” he said.

* * *

Genji’s jaw dropped when he saw his brother. “Is that - are you _smiling_?” he babbled, reaching across the table to poke at his brother’s cheeks the second he sat down across from him. “Surely this isn’t a smile for me!”

Hanzo batted his brother’s hands away. “Not when you behave like this,” he said, though it was true, he was sporting a rather large smile at the moment, even with Genji being annoying.

“If it’s not for me, then…” Genji sat back for a moment, contemplative, then steepled his fingers and leaned on the table, his gaze completely serious. “Brother,” he said, “did you ride the cowboy?”

Hanzo’s smile grew, flashing the barest hint of teeth as he replied, “Yee-haw.”

Genji howled with laughter and smacked the table with glee, and Hanzo wasn’t even upset when his drink nearly tipped over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you again for all the lovely comments and kudos!! I love hearing what you think about this lil' ol' fic of mine. ;v; Much appreciated!
> 
> Second...you might have noticed that the chapter count went down. I didn't delete anything, I just mislabeled Chapter 8 as Chapter 9 and kept going without checking. My bad! ^^;

When the doorbell rang, Hanzo did not expect to find McCree standing on his porch. They’d only just seen each other two days ago - far too soon for another romp, though Hanzo was not opposed to the idea. All thoughts of that fell away immediately when he got a good look at the man.

“Jesse?” he asked, barely getting the word out before McCree was talking.

“I can’t do this” he blurted. He was beyond frazzled, with eyes wild and wide like a panicking stallion. Hanzo had never seen him looking so distressed. “I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what? Jesse, you’re shaking - ”

“I’m not - I’m supposed to go see him again,” he babbled, “but I can’t. I can’t go through that shit with him again, I _can’t_.”

“Then don’t,” Hanzo said, gently taking him by the arm and pulling him inside.

As soon as McCree was in familiar surroundings, he slumped where he stood, nearly collapsing as his knees buckled. Hanzo was quick to hoist him up and take him to the one place he went to whenever he was in the midst of a panic attack: the koi pond.

He sat McCree down by the edge of it, then fetched blanket from the den and a cup full of the tiny food pellets that his babies loved to munch on. McCree grunted when Hanzo wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and handed him the cup. He stared blankly down at it, unsure of just what the hell he was supposed to do with the pellets.

“Here,” Hanzo said patiently, taking a pinch of the pellets and sprinkling them in the water.

Suddenly the pond was alive; half a dozen koi were poking their mouths out of the water to suck up their presented meal. Accustomed to Hanzo, they wasted little time in swarming near the very edge of the pond, demanding more.

“Be patient,” Hanzo chided, chuckling. “You will all be fed.”

McCree watched, still wide-eyed and suffering from lockjaw, but at least he’d stopped trembling. Eventually he mimicked Hanzo and jerkily sprinkled a few pellets into the water, watching as the koi gobbled them up.

Hanzo pointed out the two largest koi - twins covered in white and blue marks - and said, “Those two are my favorite. Don’t tell the others.”

That wrenched a strangled noise out of the other man that might have been a failed attempt at laughing.

Hanzo scooted closer until they were shoulder to shoulder. “There is a legend,” he began quietly, “of a giant school of koi that were swimming up the Yellow River in China. They came to a waterfall, and many got deterred and turned around. Those that remained struggled make it to the top of the waterfall, and after many years of trying, one of them succeeded. The gods smiled on that koi and transformed it into a beautiful golden dragon as a reward for its perseverance and determination.”

McCree managed a chuckle. “You raisin’ some dragons here, Hanzo?” he asked, voice only slightly hoarse.

Hanzo echoed the laugh with a quiet one of his own. “Wouldn’t that be something,” he said.

They fell silent, the only sound coming from the splashing the koi were making as McCree leaned forward with another pinch of pellets. He rolled them into his palm and stuck his hand into the water, smiling a little when the koi suctioned the food right off him.

“No fear,” he mused.

“They know you’re here to feed them.” Hanzo tilted his head. “Speaking of food - help me with dinner? There’s enough for the two of us.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

McCree didn’t protest as Hanzo helped him to his feet. “My favorite.”

Hanzo had been in the midst of prepping when McCree showed up, so most of the stuff was ready and waiting for them to prepare it. They fell into comfortable conversation as they worked. Hanzo quickly found that he enjoyed it greatly, even if McCree couldn’t mold the ground beef into meatballs for the life of him.

They were just sitting down to eat when McCree’s phone went off. Hanzo watched the man freeze, his mellow expression immediately tensing up as he reached for the device in his pocket with a shaking hand. Before he could answer it, Hanzo reached out and plucked it from his grasp.

“Hello,” Hanzo greeted blandly.

“McCree?” the man on the other end rasped. Hanzo recognized it as belonging to McCree’s boss. “The hell are you? I got Rutledge hounding me about you bein’ a no-show. The fuck gives?”

“Mr. McCree is staying with me for the night,” Hanzo reported. “I’ll pay for Mr. Rutledge’s inconvenience as well.”

McCree ducked his head and covered his face as Hanzo finished negotiating. When Hanzo hung up, he told him wetly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t,” Hanzo agreed. “Your wellbeing is worth every cent.”

“Stop,” he moaned, trying to sound whiny and petulant despite the grateful sob being torn out of him. “You’re too good to me, darlin’.”

“Hush and eat your meatballs. Or meat lumps, I guess I should say.”

He flashed him a half-assed dirty look before digging in. The good food and quiet, simple conversation was enough to make McCree stop shaking, and soon enough they were doing the dishes and bumping hips and flinging soap suds at each other, laughing and carrying on like they did this every day. It was so goddamned domestic that it made Hanzo’s chest hurt. Not for the first time, he wished McCree’s debt was paid so that they could do this every day.

Eventually McCree started pawing at him - teasing touches near his groin and across his chest that grew increasingly more desperate. “Can we fuck?” he asked quietly, almost ashamed as he kissed the back of Hanzo’s neck. “I - please, I just want to - ”

“Whatever you need,” Hanzo told him.

“I need you.”

“You have me.”

Hanzo helped him to his feet, and together they shuffled back into the house and upstairs to the bedroom. McCree’s hands were shaking when he went for Hanzo’s shirt, so Hanzo sat him on the bed and began to disrobe for him, unhurried but mindful of McCree’s needs.

McCree went for his hips the second they were exposed, but all he did was paw at them with his trembling hands. Hanzo took them in his own and gave them a squeeze, trying to ground McCree in reality.

It seemed to work, if the way McCree blinked and looked up at him was any indication. Hanzo helped him out of the rest of his clothes, then leaned down and kissed his brow, then his eyelids, then his cheeks and chin. McCree whimpered with each one and tried to pull away, but Hanzo’s hands cupped the back of his head and held him there, subjecting him to the tender pecks that all too quickly left him slumping in defeat.

Hanzo kissed his way down McCree’s chest, pausing only to suck and nibble McCree’s nipples, which he knew would get the man’s engines revving. McCree grunted and automatically reached up to hold the back of Hanzo’s head, keeping him there until the nubs became too sensitive.

“Hanzo,” McCree whined, tugging gently on his hair to get him to stop.

Hanzo pulled back and sank to his knees in front of the man, gently prying his thighs apart. “Let me take care of you,” Hanzo murmured.

He took McCree into his mouth using the same gentle care he’d been giving the man earlier. McCree sighed and leaned back on his elbows, letting his eyes flutter shut as he gave into Hanzo’s wishes.

As he bobbed his head, Hanzo coaxed McCree to open his legs wider, then snaked one of his hands up so that McCree could suckle on his fingers, getting them wet. The man moaned around the digits and sucked on them with an enthusiasm one usually would have reserved for sucking actual cock. When Hanzo withdrew, more so for his sake than McCree’s, the man moaned at the loss.

It didn’t take much prodding to get McCree to open up for him, especially when they broke out the legitimate lube in favor of spit. Hanzo fucked him with two fingers, immediately seeking out the man’s prostate and revving the man up to near dangerous levels of overloading.

“C’mon, baby - god, you’re so good, so goddamned good,” McCree warbled in between moans and strangled gasps. “Don’t deserve this, don’t deserve you - ”

“Nonsense,” Hanzo told him, crooking his fingers. “You deserve all things good.”

McCree stiffened and grew quiet as he sent Hanzo a wide-eyed, impossibly stunned look. For a second, Hanzo wondered if he’d said something wrong, but then McCree whimpered and pushed back against his hand, wetly begging for more.

Hanzo gave him more, twisted and curled his fingers in ways he knew were bound to drive McCree mad with desire. He only dared to stop when McCree’s expression began to tighten up into one Hanzo knew meant he was close to coming.

McCree mumbled half-delirious protests as Hanzo withdrew, but as Hanzo coaxed him onto his hands and knees and slowly began to penetrate him, those mumbles turned into high-pitched moans of satisfaction.

Despite both of them being more than ready to go, Hanzo took him slowly - possibly even slower than the first time Hanzo rode him. McCree hissed at him, ordered him to get on with it, to fuck him, but Hanzo was having none of that.

“I’m going to make love to you,” Hanzo told him.

McCree froze again, sent him a wild-eyed look from over his tanned shoulder, then moaned wetly and buried his face in his arms as Hanzo slid into him again. From his position, Hanzo was able to suck kisses into the back of McCree’s neck and all over his back and shoulders. He whispered endearments in both English and Japanese, words McCree couldn’t understand but still reacted to nonetheless.

“You are a good man,” Hanzo offered quietly, taking McCree’s weeping cock in his hand as he continued to thrust into him.

“No,” McCree whimpered, thighs quivering.

“Yes,” Hanzo countered. “Better than you know.”

McCree sobbed out another denial as Hanzo rolled them onto their sides so he could hook his arm under the man’s leg and spoon up behind him. His thrusts grew even more shallow thanks to their new position, but neither of them minded. This wasn’t about the sex.

Hanzo gently sank his teeth into the juncture of McCree’s neck and shoulder, then soothed the skin with his tongue, mindful of the rules even now. It was McCree who jerked, who tossed his head to get his hair out of the way.

“Mark me up,” he begged. “Please.”

“The rules, Jesse.”

“Fuck the rules,” McCree ground out, snapping his hips hard enough to almost dislodge Hanzo from inside him. “I’m yours, darlin’, I’ve been yours for days, weeks, months - just please, please, I want everyone to know that - that - ”

Hanzo rested his mouth against the back of McCree’s neck, teasing. “Know what?”

“That they can fuck me, but they can’t have me,” McCree babbled. “Not like you.”

Hanzo let out a rumble that was damn near predatory and sank his teeth solidly into McCree’s neck, almost puncturing the skin. The man groaned and thrashed, but Hanzo held on as he sucked a myriad of bright, vicious bruises into his skin. “Mine,” he growled in Japanese.

McCree came with a scream that was inhuman, a wail that went straight into Hanzo’s heart and soul. It was the cry of a wounded man and it made Hanzo shudder as he held McCree through the last waves of his orgasm.

Shortly after that, McCree broke down beneath Hanzo’s careful hands. His entire body shook with the effort of holding in his sobs, but some quiet coaxing from Hanzo, he let them out as wet, heaving hiccups and whimpers. He curled in on himself and wept into his hands, and Hanzo remained patiently behind him, rubbing his arm and peppering his shoulder with light pecks.

Eventually his sobs tapered off to little sniffles and sighs. Hanzo moved to the other side of the bed so that he could face McCree, being sure to keep his arm around him as he drifted off to sleep. With McCree’s breaths puffing slowly against his collarbone, it was only a matter of time until Hanzo joined him.

He woke a little before seven, deliciously lazy and toasty in his little nest of blankets and pillows. His hand automatically snaked out, searching for a man the half-cognizant part of his mind knew was probably long gone by now.

He didn’t expect the the other side of the bed to still be warm.

That woke him fully. Grabbing a bathrobe to combat the cool morning air, Hanzo quickly shuffled downstairs and into the kitchen, following the scent of brewing tea. He found McCree there, still scruffy with sleep and clad in only his boxers, yet he still painted the epitome of a perfect picture for Hanzo.

McCree sensed his presence in the doorway and turned to face him. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he said quietly, almost shyly. He held out a mug of tea like a silent thank you - not needed, but definitely appreciated at this awful hour.

Hanzo took the mug and smiled. “Good morning, Jesse.”


	9. Chapter 9

“He _what_?” McCree blurted, cheeks turning redder by the second.

“Gave me a cheap little ring to give to you,” Hanzo repeated, trying and failing not to grin at the abashed look on McCree’s face. He held out the capsule with the tiny plastic ring inside as proof. “Lúcio said red is your favorite color. I don’t think this will fit any of your fingers, though.”

“Oh my god,” McCree groaned, tugging the brim of his hat down over his face. “For fuck’s sake. Don’t get me wrong - I love ‘em - but for fuck’s sake.”

Hanzo chuckled and patted him on the arm. “Don’t be mad at them,” he said. “Without their meddling, I doubt I would have had the courage to make my feelings known to you.”

McCree hummed. “Guess they can come to the weddin’, then.”

Before Hanzo could even think of a response to that, the cowboy was patting his arm and gesturing to a diner on the corner. “Best grits in town,” he promised a wary Hanzo as he practically dragged the man inside.

Hanzo didn’t know what grits were, and even after ordering and consuming some he still wasn’t quite sure, but he did agree with McCree that they were pretty good. Truth be told, though, his mind wasn’t on the food - it was focussed on the fact that he and McCree were kinda sorta on their first date. Neither of them had used the word, but McCree was off the clock, and there was no money involved save for the cash McCree insisted be used to pay the bill at the end of their meal. What else could it be?

There was the barest whisper of warning in the back of Hanzo’s skull that came with that assumption, but it was easy to ignore it.

“Feels nice to be the one payin’ for once,” McCree teased, offering Hanzo a wink as he rose to his feet with the bill and his wallet.

“You’re going to let me pay sometimes,” Hanzo told him as he headed towards the register.

“What was that? Can’t hear you, darlin’,” McCree called to him, earning them some glances from the other patrons.

Hanzo ducked his head to hide his blush and pleased smile, then headed to the restroom while McCree paid the bill. When he surfaced a few minutes later, he noticed McCree had vacated the diner and was now standing just outside. He spotted a familiar cowboy hat through the front window, so he headed out there, assuming McCree had just stepped out for a smoke.

He had, but he also wasn’t alone out on the curb, Hanzo noticed as he stepped through the door. Genji of all people was standing with him at the corner. Hanzo’s first instinct was to come to McCree’s rescue, but then he noticed that their postures reeked of something more than just camaraderie, their expressions nothing short of flirtatious as they enthusiastically conversed. Hanzo frowned and slowed his pace, unsure of what he might be walking into.

Genji noticed him loitering and waved. “Hanzo! Brother, come meet an old friend of mine,” he said, gesturing to McCree, who now looked ready to pass out. “This is Jesse. We go way back.”

Hanzo tried not to care that Genji was calling McCree by his first name so easily, but it was a losing battle. “We are already acquainted,” he gritted out, glowering at the cowboy. “Intimately.”

Genji cocked a brow in question, then turned to stare at McCree. The pieces fell together alarmingly fast, leaving him choking where he stood and paling about ten shades. “Oh - you - he - oh my god,” he sputtered. “Jesse is the man you’ve been - ”

“Yes.”

McCree rubbed the back of his neck, his tanned skin turning even darker with an embarrassed blush. “Well, shoot,” he babbled, chuckling weakly. “What’re the odds?”

Hanzo blinked at him, then turned and walked down the block towards his building, deaf to his brother and McCree’s weak attempts to stop him. It was childish, perhaps, but Hanzo was far too irritated to care what either of them thought.

He threw himself into his work as soon as he got home in a desperate attempt to stave off the thousand questions rushing through his head. It was a losing battle and left him feeling beyond exhausted as he finally peeled himself away from his drafting bench several hours later.

His phone had been blowing up in his pocket since breakfast, but he was too tired to even look at it, not until he’d showered and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. And even after he was comfortable, he still hesitated to pick up his phone, afraid of how much chaos he’d find waiting for him.

Eventually, he chanced a glance at the device. Genji had called him four times and left a message before resorting to texting. Hanzo deleted the voicemail without listening to it, then opened up the messenger app to deal with his brother’s sass. He’d left an obscene amount, so Hanzo scrolled to the very end of the list.

 _From: Genji (6:47 pm)_ :  
**Bro srsly wtf was that??**

_From: Genji (6:54 pm):_  
**Youre not getting out of this so you might as well text me back u ass**

Hanzo scowled down at the screen. **How many cowboy sex workers do you know?** he texted angrily. Then, not wanting to know the answer, quickly sent: **Do you and McCree meet frequently?**

_From: Genji (7:04 pm):_  
**Ffs its not like that! Its been literal years since ive even seen the guy. We had a fling like 10 yrs ago before he got into the industry**

_From: Genji (7:06 pm):_  
**I didnt even know he was doing that now. You really think i wouldve hooked you up with him if i knew? bro**

_From: Genji (7:09 pm):_  
**You know i couldve explained all of this if you hadnt run off like a jealous little school kid. Wtf was that even about??**

Hanzo’s scowl deepened and he contemplated on throwing his phone across the room. It nearly gave him a heart attack when it suddenly started ringing with an incoming call from an unknown number.

“Shimada,” he snapped in his semi-professional tone, expecting a client to be on the other end. The last thing he wanted to do right now was deal with work, but a part of him welcomed the distraction.

“Er, Hanzo?” came McCree’s nervous voice.

Again Hanzo felt the urge to throw his phone. “How did you get this number?” he blurted before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

“Off of Genji,” McCree said. “Look, will you let me explain? Or did your brother beat me to it?”

“He explained some,” Hanzo muttered. “He said that you two had a fling a long time ago. Is this true?”

“Yeah, before I had this dumb debt to pay. It was all in good fun. He was new ‘round these parts, we were both lonely. Parted on good terms a few months later and I hadn’t seen him since.”

Hanzo bit his lip, knowing that the reason why Genji was so lonely was because he’d still been in Hanamura trying desperately to salvage what he’d screwed up. Still, jealousy flared in his veins - for both men, Hanzo realized suddenly. He was jealous that his brother got to spend time with McCree first, and yet at the same time Hanzo was upset that McCree had been there for him when Hanzo hadn’t been able to. Talk about unfair.

“It doesn’t matter,” he found himself saying. “We aren’t officially dating. You and Genji are free to do as you please.”

McCree was silent for a moment. “No, guess it doesn’t,” he agreed quietly. “Just wanted to clear this up so there aren’t any hurt feelings or - ”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay,” McCree muttered. “Guess I’ll see you when I see you. Night, Hanzo.”

“Goodnight,” Hanzo said to the dialtone.

He tossed his phone aside and angrily stormed into the kitchen to make some leftover dinner. By the time he came back to his stupid phone nearly half an hour later, Genji had left another obscene amount of texts for him to scroll through.

_From: Genji (7:13pm):_  
**You gonna answer me or**

_From: Genji (7:21 pm):_  
**Omg. Hanzo.**  
**You like the cowboy, don’t you??**

_From: Genji (7:23 pm):_  
**Like actually *like* him**

_From: Genji (7:25pm):_  
**??**

_From: Genji (7:28pm):_  
**???????**  
**Hanzoooo answer me or i s2g**

Hanzo kept scrolling, unimpressed, even as he hit the last of the texts and learned that Genji was on his way over since his “stupid ass can’t be bothered to reply like a normal human being.” He curled up in a pathetic ball on the couch until Genji nearly kicked down the front door and stormed in.

“You don’t deserve to own a goddamned phone,” he snapped, out of breath and red-faced. He held up an unopened bottle of booze. “Drink?”

Hanzo nodded, and Genji disappeared into the kitchen to grab some glasses. He returned a moment later and flopped down on the couch, then poured them both a helping of alcohol. He handed Hanzo one of the glasses, but left his own untouched.

“So,” Genji began, “you gonna answer my question, or should I wait until you’ve got more booze in you?”

“He’s like fire.”

Genji blinked, startled. “What? Like, destructive and frightening?”

Hanzo scowled at him. “Like warm and soothing,” he snapped. “I’ve been frozen inside since I left Hanamura. Probably even before then.”

At that, Genji’s brow furrowed and his posture slumped. “Hanzo, why didn’t you ever tell me you felt like that?” he asked quietly, clearly pained that his brother had been suffering right in front of him for so long.

“I never even noticed,” Hanzo told him, his anger waning. “I just thought that’s how my life was going to be now, and I got used to feeling like that. Then Jesse came along and...”

Genji scooted closer and gave him an encouraging nod.

“He makes me happy,” Hanzo murmured into his drink. “He makes me laugh. He likes the koi. He’s ridiculous and talks too loudly and radiates this warmth that I can’t get enough of. I told him about father.” That earned Hanzo a surprised look, but Genji didn’t interrupt him. “He told me about his past, about why he does what he does. I came to truly know him and trust him. He finally spent the night with me a few days ago, and when I woke up and found him still here, I found myself happier than I’ve been in years.”

He trailed off, lost to his thoughts about this strange cowboy that had turned his dull, boring, lonely life upside down, and for a long time both men were silent.

Genji eventually shifted and poured himself some more booze. “So you’re like, legitimately in love with him,” he said.

“No,” Hanzo said automatically.

“What? Hanzo, you - what you just described? The fire and all that? That’s gotta be love,” Genji told him gently. “And it’s okay.”

Hanzo shook his head as disgust burned the back of his throat. “What kind of sick person falls in love with a sex worker?” It wasn’t fair to either of them - not so long as McCree was stuck with that damned debt. He knew McCree already felt guilty enough whenever he had to go out with a client. Adding love into the mix - no, not fair, not possible.

“Honestly, it happens more often than you think.”

“That is not comforting.”

Genji shrugged. “Do you think he feels the same way about you?”

“I don’t know. We both care for each other, I can say that much.” It was Hanzo’s turn to shrug. “But I don’t want to assume it’s as deep as love. He’s made it quite clear he doesn’t date clients, let alone fall in love with them.”

“So stop being his client and start being his boyfriend.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

Hanzo hesitated, then tentatively told Genji of McCree’s predicament. His eyes were wide by the end of the short tale, and he reached for his glass to knock its contents back in one swallow.

“How much more does he have to pay still?” he asked, coughing a little.

“A couple of months or so, maybe. He never gave me an exact amount.” Hanzo stopped and stared at the air in front of him, suddenly seized by an idea - no, a _solution_ that was so obnoxiously obvious that Hanzo’s head began to spin. He lept to his feet. “I need to go.”

“Go?” Genji echoed, alarmed. “Go where?”

“To the bank. Deadlock Saloon,” Hanzo told him, grabbing his coat. “Not necessarily in that order.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? Do _you_ even know what you’re doing? Hanzo!” Genji launched himself over the couch and managed to wedge himself between the front door and his brother. “Hanzo, wait!”

“Move - ”

“If he never told you the exact amount, could it be safe to assume he doesn’t want you to pay it?”

Hanzo was all too aware of the fact that it was quite likely. “I’m already technically paying it anyway,” he pointed out through gritted teeth. “This will speed up the process and get him out of there.”

“But Hanzo - ”

“Is he not your friend? Don’t you want him to be safe and happy as well?”

Genji scowled at him. “Of course I do,” he snapped, “but this might not be the best way to go about helping him.”

“It’s the only option,” Hanzo insisted viciously. “You haven’t seen what this is doing to him, Genji. You weren’t here for the time he came to me in the midst of a panic attack because he didn’t want to face an abusive client. You haven’t seen what he looks like after days of non-stop work for little reward. I _have_ to get him out of there and this is the only way.”

After a long, tense pause, Genji reluctantly peeled himself away from the door. “I hope you’re right,” he offered to his brother’s retreating back.

* * *

As soon as McCree dragged himself into the Deadlock Saloon, he was barking an order at the guy behind the bar to fix him up something strong. He needed it after that fiasco with Hanzo and Genji earlier that afternoon.

That had been an awkward conversation. How the hell was he supposed to know they were related? he fumed as the bartender slid him a glass of whiskey. Neither of them had mentioned the other’s name - and he hadn’t seen Genji in close to ten years! Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even recognized the fella if not for that silly headband. The last time he’d seen him, his hair had been a vibrant shade of green.

it was never easy explaining to folks what he did for a living these days, let alone people he had an intimate past with. Genji had taken it well, but he could see the disappointment in the man’s gaze - though to be fair it was probably over the fact that he’d upset Hanzo, not over what he did to earn money. McCree had been rarin’ to bed Genji again provided he was willing to hash out some money for it - and everyone knew it.

“Call him,” Genji had told him, punching Hanzo’s number into his cell phone. “He probably won’t reply to any of my texts or calls, so it’s up to you and your unknown number.”

A fat lot of good that did, McCree mused angrily, knocking back another mouthful of whiskey. That had been a breakup call if McCree had ever heard one - and they hadn’t even technically gotten together yet. What a goddamned bitch of an unsatisfactory situation - and it was all his fault.

“Why the long face, cowboy?”

McCree swallowed the last of his drink as Bogdan sidled up next to him. “Piss off, boss, I ain’t in the mood for your shit.”

“Aww, you should be happy, what with the good news,” Bogdan slurred, flashing his yellow teeth in a shark-like smile.

“Good news, huh? What, are you retiring? Dying? One is more preferable than the other.”

Bogdan smacked him upside the head, almost making him spill his booze. “You’re free, you mouthy piece of shit.”

McCree stared at him. “That ain’t funny.”

“You see me laughin’, idiot? Your debt’s been paid off. You’re done, you’re free.”

Instead of experiencing the utter elation and relief McCree always thought he’d feel once he paid off his dues, he felt ice beginning to settle hard and sharp in his gut. “Who paid it?” he rasped, starting to shake. He knew his family couldn’t afford that even if they did find out, so that could only mean -

“Some Asian dude with a beard came in a half hour or so before you,” Bogdan said, waving him off. “Look, kid, you don’t work for me anymore. Frankly it would be fuckin’ fantastic if I never see your face ‘round here ever again. So get the fuck out.”

McCree wanted to echo the sentiment, but his brain was currently short-circuiting. He moved on autopilot, stumbling out the door and into the night. He didn’t know what to do with himself, didn’t know where to go until his shock was suddenly replaced with a sweltering rage.

His anger led him to Hanzo’s house. It was dark, probably nearing nine or ten at night now, but McCree couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about the possibility of waking the man as he pounded on the front door hard enough to make the little windows in it tremble. Hanzo answered half a minute later, wide-eyed. He opened his mouth, but McCree didn’t let him speak.

“You had no goddamned right,” was the first thing out of his mouth. He seethed like an enraged bull as he strode forward into the house, almost backing Hanzo into the hallway wall. Out of the corner of his eye, McCree saw Genji standing in the living room, just as startled as his brother currently was. “You had no goddamned right to do that, Hanzo!”

Hanzo stood his ground, his shoulders straight and head tilted high. “You are free now,” he said. “Deadlock was killing you.”

“It’s none of your goddamned business!”

“I wanted to help.”

McCree wanted to break something, preferably over Hanzo’s dumb head. “I never asked for your help! Not like this! You were better off paying me to spread my fuckin’ legs every damn day!”

“You don’t have to do that anymore!” Hanzo finally yelled, throwing his hands up as the last of his resolve chipped away. “You’ll never have to touch another stranger again! That’s the whole reason why I did it!”

“I’ve still got a debt to pay, you fuckin’ fool!” McCree snarled. “The point of me payin’ off the goddamned loan was so I’d never been indebted to anyone ever again! And now you’ve gone and fucked the whole thing!”

“I don’t want you to pay me back - ”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want,” McCree snapped, backing up towards the door. His anger was draining rapidly, leaving a tired, heartbroken man standing in the threshold of Hanzo’s house. “Since you didn’t stop to think about what _I_ want, you selfish piece of shit.”

He left, harsh words leaving a bad taste in his mouth as he hurried down the front walk. He heard Hanzo moving to follow him, but he never made it out the door. Genji’s soft voice met McCree’s ears as he made it to the sidewalk, but he kept his gaze forward, knowing that if he chanced a look back, he’d never get away.

McCree stumbled home on autopilot, still too enraged and shellshocked to do much more than let his body take over. He practically broke the front door off its hinges as he barged through it. Jack, Ana and Gabriel were all in the kitchen and jumped when he appeared, red-faced and heaving for air.

“Jesse?” Gabriel questioned, brows furrowed with worry. “Are you all right?”

McCree stared at him, trying to process his words. He’d heard them so many times that they had nearly lost their meaning to him, or so he thought. Now he blinked rapidly as his vision became blurry, but all that did was send tears cascading down his cheeks.

“No,” he choked out. “I’m really, really not.”

Gabriel moved then, pulling him into a tight embrace, and suddenly the walls were gone, the shame and fear and pain rushing out of him like water from a breached dam. He told them everything, told them exactly what had happened from the day he left home at eighteen to the fight he had with Hanzo. It was like ripping off a bandaid - stung like a bitch, but he couldn’t breathe with it on anymore.

They were all red-eyed and pale by the end of it. Gabriel broke a glass in a fit of rage, threatened to go tear down Deadlock Saloon brick by brick until Jack pinned him to the counter and held him until he was done shouting and cursing. Ana just sat in stunned silence, her hand over her mouth, and that was somehow worse than Gabriel’s yelling.

“I gotta get outta here,” McCree rasped eventually, unseeing eyes glued to the floor. “I can’t stay in this city anymore. I need to leave right now.”

His foster parents exchanged wet glances with each other. “What about Hanzo?” Ana asked quietly.

McCree scowled. “What about him?”

“Aren’t you going to tell him you’re leaving? He’ll be concerned if you just go.”

Despite his anger at the other man, it hurt McCree to think about Hanzo sitting around at home by himself worrying himself sick over McCree’s sudden disappearance out of his life. But he couldn’t back down from this. “Y’all can tell him if you want. I don’t care. I just need to leave.” Truthfully he wanted to rip off his skin, scrub his bones raw, and stop existing, but that wasn’t an option right now. Leaving was the next best thing.

“Where will you go?” Gabriel asked, fumbling for his wallet with shaking hands. “Do you need money for a plane ticket?”

“You can take my bike,” Jack offered, voice raspier than usual. “Just promise to wear a helmet and she’s all yours.”

McCree’s mouth opened and closed as it registered with him that they weren’t going to stop him. He was walking out on their lives for a second time and they were going to let him go without a fuss because he needed this and they knew it.

He broke down again, weeping into his hands and babbling apologies for not trusting them sooner as familiar hands stroked his back and shoulders. Someone handed him a tissue, then a glass of water that he gulped until he choked.

“Whatever you need, habibi,” Ana said softly, rubbing his back. “We’re with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'V 
> 
> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://vickjawn.tumblr.com/)!


	10. Chapter 10

While McCree went to one side of the earth, Hanzo went to the other. Hanamura always looked beautiful in the springtime, and luckily that was when Hanzo decided to come visit. When Hanzo arrived in town disguised as a tourist, he was almost knocked flat on his ass at the sight of the familiar town in full bloom.

Genji did not come with him. “Someone’s gotta feed your dumb fish,” he’d said through a grin that didn‘t quite reach his eyes. Hanzo knew he had already achieved inner peace with himself when it came to dealing with their past. He wanted nothing more to do with the clan and that was fine.

Hanzo thought he would be a nervous wreck as he entered Hanamura, but perhaps he’d found some inner peace of his own because he felt next to nothing. The sight of the Shimada clan’s castle towering over the other buildings also failed to rouse any anxiety or anger within him. Hanzo wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for that or not.

In a desperate attempt to keep the place in working order, the clan had converted the castle into a museum that was open to the public for a small fee. It should have disturbed Hanzo to see the place he grew up in reduced to a bunch of inaccurate historic plaques and roped-off hallways and bedrooms, but it didn’t.

Perhaps it was because he no longer saw the place as his home. He had grown up here within these walls, within Hanamura, but most of his childhood memories of this place were less than stellar. Now when he thought of home, he pictured people - his brother, McCree, even McCree’s own family members. In a handful of months, those folks had given him more joy than all the years he’d spent in Japan.

He made his way to the graveyard in one of the gardens hidden from public view. He used one of the paths he and Genji used to take whenever they wanted to see their mother but not deal with any backlash from their father should one of the guards or maids see them. Even now, years later, Hanzo remembered the way.

His mother’s grave was exactly the way he remembered it. He knelt down before it and meditated for a while, reflecting on the few memories of his mother that he still had. It shamed him that he hardly remembered her face. He remembered her long dark hair most vividly, how she kept it tied back in a messy bun with an elegant ribbon matching the color of her obi. There had been many nights they’d spent brushing each other’s hair in near darkness, fearful of the clan elders or Hanzo’s father catching them.

Hanzo touched the ribbon currently holding his own hair back. He uttered out a quiet thank you for her ears only, then moved on to his father’s grave.

He didn’t kneel down before it, nor did he light any incense. He fixed it with an icy stare for a long time, dredging up all the things he wished he could say to his father’s face now that he was no longer afraid.

“I never hated anyone before you,” he told the dead man. “I hate you for the way you raised Genji and I. I hate you for seeing us as pawns for your business instead of your own flesh and blood. I hate you for trying to turn us against each other, against our own mother. I could go on, but I won’t. I only hope that wherever you are, you have time to dwell upon your actions.”

The grave didn’t respond. In the distance, Hanzo heard a guard yelling; he made his way out of the castle undetected and left Hanamura for the last time.

After that, things slowly went back to normal. He worked, he ate lunch with Genji on Tuesdays, and he came home at the end of the day to his empty house to eat dinner alone and spend time with his fish. It was boring, but at least it was predictable. The only thing that really changed was Genji’s sudden interest in a young man his age who worked at a newly-opened tea store downtown.

“His name’s Zenyatta,” Genji gushed over lunch one day. “He goes to that community college on the other side of town. He’s learning to be a therapist specializing in mediation. Last summer he went to Nepal to study with real Shambali monks! Isn’t that cool?”

Hanzo had never seen his brother behaving so lovesick before and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d looked like this when he’d been talking about McCree for the first time. Hanzo was quick to push that thought from his mind, not wanting to dwell too much on sad things when his brother was having a fit.

“Since when do you care about meditation?” Hanzo asked, smirking. “Do you remember how much candy I had to tempt you with as a child to get you to simply sit still?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not some hot monk-in-training,” Genji told him bluntly as he grinned off into space. “How did you know you were in love with - ” He caught himself too late and sent his brother a wide-eyed look while the rest of his body shrank with shame.

Hanzo answered without fanfare. “You were the one who figured it out before I did,” he reminded him. “How long have you known this man again?”

“Two days.”

“Two - ” Hanzo sputtered and threw his napkin across the table, smacking Genji in the face. “You’re ridiculous!”

“I’m in love!” Genji countered loudly, swooning over the remnants of his cheese fries. “Come meet him, Hanzo! Please, please, please? Then you’ll understand!”

As irritated as he was (and perhaps, he admitted inwardly, jealous) that his brother had found love in a grand total of two days, he granted his wish and went with him to the new tea store a few blocks away. The place was small and cozy and smelled utterly divine. Hanzo was so distracted by the multitudes or organic teas lining the shelves that he was startled when Genji was suddenly next to him with a short, skinnier man with a shorn head and a peaceful smile on his tanned, freckled face.

“Brother,” Genji began, voice shaking slightly with excitement, “this is Zenyatta.”

The young man held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hanzo,” Zenyatta said, smiling hard enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Your brother has told me much about you.”

“I deny everything,” was Hanzo’s automatic, painful response. The two laughed, and Hanzo had to pretend what he said hadn’t been a result from spending so much time with a certain charismatic cowboy.

They made small talk for a bit; Zenyatta explained how he and Genji met. Apparently they both had a shared love of cheese fries, among many other things. Genji’s gaze never left the man beside him, his expression the epitome of someone who was head over heels. Any doubts Hanzo had over the legitimacy of Genji’s attraction started chipping away.

“He seems too good and pure for you,” Hanzo told him the second Zenyatta was out of earshot to deal with a customer.

Genji laughed. “I know,” he agreed. “There’s just something about him that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside - he’s like fire, yeah? I don’t want to be away from him, ever - and there’s so much he can teach me,” he added excitedly. “He’s offered to take me with him to Nepal next week.”

At that, Hanzo fixed his brother with a hard look. “And if things don’t work out between the two of you? You’ll be stranded in Nepal on a mountain. No internet or cell phone service.”

“Things will work out.” Genji’s gaze was back on Zenyatta. The smile on his face was serene, his eyes half-lidded with puppy love. Hanzo had never seen him looking so at peace. “But I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

“Why me? You’re a grown man capable of making your own decisions, are you not?”

Genji shrugged, finally tearing his gaze away from his potential boyfriend. “You’re my brother and you come first,” he said simply. “If you need me here, I’ll stay.”

Hanzo considered his little brother, both impressed and touched that he would forfeit a good time and possibly more for him. As much as Hanzo would miss having his brother around to distract him from his own woes, he couldn’t deny that some time meditating with monks in a foreign land might do him some good. Zenyatta certainly seemed to have a strong effect on Genji one way or another.

“I appreciate your concern,” Hanzo said quietly, “but you must follow your own path.”

Genji nodded, flashed him a cocky grin and a wink, then sauntered back over to Zenyatta to tell him the good news. Hanzo watched him go, already feeling lonely.

Days passed with maddening sluggishness, especially after Genji left for Nepal. Tuesdays became like any other day in Hanzo’s life - uneventful and secluded. He was aware that he was becoming a bit of a hermit; if it wasn’t for his clients, he doubted he would have talked much at all to anyone. It probably should have bugged him more than it did, but depression was a hell of a thing. Some days Hanzo didn’t even feel like getting out of bed to face the loneliness.

His brother started sending him letters in the mail, though, and those were enough to keep Hanzo moving from one day to the next. He and Zenyatta were getting closer - _I held his hand the other day!_ Genji had written in excited, nearly illegible scrawl - and he was learning a lot about centering himself and getting control over the anger Hanzo knew was still simmering inside him all these years. It was a relief to know that his brother was in good hands.

As much as Hanzo was trying to avoid them, it was inevitable that he’d run into one of McCree’s family members at some point. He found Gabriel at the food market nearly a month after McCree disappeared out of his life. The man seemed surprised to see him, but at least he wasn’t angry. They made small talk for all of thirty seconds before Hanzo couldn’t stand it any longer.

“How is he?” Hanzo chanced asking, afraid that the subject might make the older man lash out. He wasn’t sure what McCree had told him.

Gabriel remained impassive. “Last I heard, he’s all right,” he offered. “Traveling a lot out west. Trying to clear his head and all that.”

So that was why Hanzo hadn’t seen the man at all. At least he wasn’t in trouble. “He’s been through a lot,” he agreed quietly, wilting. “Gabriel, I’m - ”

Gabriel clapped his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “He told us everything,” he said. “And honestly? Thank you for getting him out of there, even if you didn’t exactly go about doing it the right way. I’d rather he be indebted to a friend than those shady bunch of bastards.”

Hanzo swayed where he stood, so relieved he felt lightheaded. “I only wish he felt the same,” he muttered. “I don’t expect him to pay me back. I told him that.”

Gabriel shrugged. “That’s just the kind of guy Jesse is. Don’t worry,” he added, offering him a small, tired smile. “He’ll be back.”

It was sooner rather than later, all things considered. Three months and two weeks after their fight, Hanzo answered a knock at his door to find McCree standing on the other side of it.

They stared at each other, too stunned to even move for the better half of a minute. Then Hanzo made the tiniest of jerks, prompting McCree to take half a step forward. The tethers holding them back snapped in near unison; they launched themselves at each other with strangled, wet noises.

They hadn’t kissed since the first night Hanzo had bought McCree. This time, though, it was no accident. Their lips and teeth clashed almost painfully as they struggled to absorb every last inch of the other, like they were afraid if they stopped or let go, the moment would end. McCree backed Hanzo into the wall, and Hanzo made an attempt to coil his legs around the man’s hips.

That snapped McCree out of it; he pulled back first, gasping. “I - wait, wait,” he babbled, and Hanzo immediately let go, stumbling backwards into the wall, terrified that he’d fucked everything up in a span of ten seconds.

They both stood there, wild-eyed and panting. Eventually, after some careful mental and emotional wall-building, Hanzo straightened up and addressed the other man like a civil human being.

“Hello, Jesse,” he said, voice only slightly hoarse.

“Hey,” McCree echoed, sounding no better. He was rubbing his hands on his jeans, very clearly nervous, but he also couldn’t keep his wide eyes off Hanzo. “Hey, um. You - you look good, Hanzo.”

“Thank you.” Hanzo was sure he looked the same as he had the last time they’d met - same plain white button up shirt and slacks, same graying hair and thin beard. It was McCree who looked different - healthy, if Hanzo had to pick a word. The dark circles under his eyes were gone, and his tan was darker than ever, almost smothering the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“I, um, have somethin’ for you,” McCree said when no other conversation spawned. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a handful of bills - twenties and hundreds. “It ain’t the full amount, but I wanted to give you somethin’. Sorry it took so long.”

Hanzo frowned down at the money. “Jesse…”

“Please.” He put the cash in Hanzo’s hesitant hands. “Consider it the first of many payments. I, uh, got a job.”

Hanzo picked his head up, pleasantly surprised. “Oh? Doing what?”

“Just at a hardware store,” McCree clarified quickly - almost bashfully. “Nothin’ fancy, but it pays okay. Should be able to get you two or three hundred a month. I’m hopin’ to rent a place in town soon and need a hefty deposit, otherwise you’d be gettin’ more than just this.”

Hanzo stared at him, then at the money in his hands. “Or,” he began slowly, “you could stay with me.”

McCree’s eyes widened. “I - what?”

“You could pay rent,” Hanzo offered quickly. “As a means of paying me back for the loan. That way you wouldn’t be spending your entire paycheck.”

McCree looked almost entirely turned off to the idea. “I couldn’t do that to you,” he muttered. “I’ve been a burden on so many people - ”

“You’ve never been a burden,” Hanzo told him, reaching out with his free hand to touch the man’s arm. “Not on me, not on your family.”

McCree ducked his head and fiddled with the hem of his shirt, clearly embarrassed. “Even so,” he muttered, “how the hell you wanna put up with me after the pissy fit I threw the last time I saw you? I said...a lotta mean shit. I was just mad.”

“I know. To be fair, I should have talked with you first about paying your debt,” Hanzo admitted. “We both screwed up. But I’m ready to make amends if you are.”

“I am,” McCree said immediately, voice cracking. “God, am I.”

Hanzo couldn’t help the wet, relieved sigh that escaped him then as his walls crumbled. He reached for McCree, but the man was one step ahead of him and already pulling him into his arms. They slotted together perfectly, even if Hanzo did have to stand on the tips of his toes to reach McCree’s neck.

“Missed you,” McCree mumbled into his shoulder.

“And I you,” Hanzo murmured in reply, tightening his grip. “More than I ever thought I would.”

“I’m sorry. I needed time,” McCree said, pulling back enough to look Hanzo in the eyes without dislodging their arms from each other. “The whole situation - it left me more fucked up than I thought it would after it was all said and done. Drivin’ around out west helped me come to terms with a lot of it.”

“I’m glad,” Hanzo said softly. “I hope you know that you can come to me if you need to unload, too.”

“Duly noted,” McCree said, offering him a tired smile. “Know what else I found out there? Remember how I said I’d be keepin’ an eye out for any family I might have?”

Hanzo’s eyes widened. “You found some?”

“I know, what’re the odds, right? Apparently I’ve got a younger half-sister. Her name’s Sombra and she’s a sassy brat, but she’s family. Already invited her over for Thanksgivin’, so that ought to be a shitshow, heh.”

“That’s amazing,” Hanzo said, truly surprised. “Will she help you find others?”

At that, McCree wilted a little, shaking his head. “Just us,” he said quietly. “Well, us and my family, now. She seemed happy to hear that I got folks, even if they ain’t blood. But there’s more to family than just that, yknow?”

He squeezed Hanzo’s hips and grinned, the implication clear. Hanzo returned his smile and leaned up to kiss him again, only to let out a startled grunt at the sight of what was currently sitting in his driveway. “You got your bike,” he said, pulling away from McCree to go inspect the massive metal beast.

McCree followed after him. “It’s Jack’s,” he elaborated. “Had to get ‘round somehow. He was kind enough to lend it to me.”

Hanzo ran his hand over the leather seat, humming. He’d never been big on vehicles in general, but he could appreciate fine craftsmanship. “Will you take me for a ride sometime?” he asked, turning back to McCree.

“Shoot, darlin’, if you got the time, we can head out right now,” he offered almost nervously. As glad as they were to see each other again, the air between them was still a little stiff, and they both knew it. “I know a few folks on the other side of town who’d love to see you.”

The prospect of seeing the whole family again made Hanzo giddy with a pleasant combination of excitement and trepidation. “Is there dinner involved with this visit? I haven’t eaten yet.”

McCree’s grin widened. “‘Course,” he said, moving to straddle his bike. “Though I should warn you - it’s Jack ‘Salt Is a Spice’ Morrison’s turn to cook, so I hope you like unseasoned, dry chicken and veggies.”

“My favorite,” Hanzo remarked through his own grin.

With a laugh, McCree donned his helmet before tossing Hanzo the spare one. “Ready, darlin’?” he asked, holding out his hand to help him on the bike.

Hanzo took it without pause. “More than ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a big ol' happy wrap! A big shout-out and thank you to everyone who's left a kudos and comment!! Your encouraging, kind words kept me posting. :')


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I couldn't help myself and wound up writing a short little epilogue for y'all, since you've all been so kind in your reviews. ;v; Enjoy the extra helping of fluff!

Holidays at the Reyes/Amari/Morrison household were always a grand affair, Hanzo quickly learned.

The first holiday he spent with them was Thanksgiving. Hanzo had never been one to celebrate the usual array of major holidays, but McCree had invited him months prior, and with Genji still in Nepal, Hanzo was loathe to say no.

Somehow, they all managed to cram themselves into the dining room to devour what was quite possibly the best batch of food Hanzo had ever eaten in his life. They spared no expense to make sure the whole family was fed to near bursting - and there was even a decent chunk left over. Ana had been kind enough to wrap up some of it for Hanzo despite him politely saying it wasn’t necessary.

“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t make sure all my children were fed?” she teased, patting him on the cheek.

McCree had been right about his newly-discovered half-sister Sombra - she was a sassy one all right, and constantly wearing a smirk that was sharp enough to cut frozen butter with ease. Still, she was a delight to be around, mostly because she irritated the hell out of Gabriel and McCree and entertained the kids with tall tales of her “totally legal” adventures in Mexico. The handful of calm discussions Hanzo had managed to have with her in between chowing down on food had been enlightening. Sharp-tongued and extremely intelligent to boot. In other words, Hanzo liked her.

Christmas came quickly after that. Nobody in the family was particularly religious, but when Jack moved in, Ana explained, he had brought with him a fierce Christmas spirit that nothing seemed able to dampen, hence the elaborate festivities that came with the holiday. Hanzo had never seen so many lights and ornaments and decorations in one place before and couldn’t help but wonder just how high their electric bill was for the month of December.

After that, there were more holidays - 4th of July picnics at the local lake, Halloweens spent showing off the elaborate details of the costumes Gabriel had slaved over for the past month making. Holidays Hanzo had never thought much of were now something he looked forward to, if only because of the people he got to spend them with.

His family, he concluded one warm summer evening under a vibrant fireworks display. The kids were chasing each other with sparklers a few feet away. Ana was curled up on a blanket between her two boys as they watched the fireworks streak across the cloudless sky. McCree was snoring into Hanzo’s shoulder, and Genji was finishing off the last of his beer while Zenyatta ate the last of the mini-sandwiches Gabriel had made for the picnic.

This was what he’d been missing most of his life, Hanzo mused. This was happiness.

Three more Christmases passed, all bearing the same cozy holiday spirit. The third one found Hanzo seeking refuge on the family couch, sinking into its warm squishy confines along with the last of the spiked eggnog. The festivities had wound down and the kids had been sent to bed. He was warm, fuzzy, and heavy with good drink, food and company. Another perfect holiday, as far as he was concerned.

After helping Ana with the last of the dishes, McCree joined him on the couch, burrowing under the blanket until they were squished together in a happy, half-drunk pile. Hanzo sighed with utter contentment and squeezed his personal furnace with his free hand, mumbling nonsense into his shoulder.

“Darlin’?” McCree said eventually. “Got somethin’ for you if you want it. An early Christmas present.”

Hanzo hummed and cracked open his eyes just as Jesse reached over and dropped a small twenty-five cent capsule into the palm of his hand. “Cute,” he mused, bringing it up to his face so he could eye the cheap little ring inside it. Only no, he suddenly realized - that was no fake ring. It was a beautiful titanium band. A real engagement ring.

He looked at McCree, wide-eyed and almost too stunned to speak. “Are you…?”

“It’s not fully paid for yet,” McCree started babbling, crumbling under Hanzo’s gaze. “And if you don’t like it, we can take it back and switch it for somethin’ better - ”

“It’s perfect,” Hanzo told him, ripping off the top of the capsule so he could slide the ring on. It fit. “I love it. I love you.”

McCree let out a happy wet sound as Hanzo kissed him soundly, deeply, trying to relay just how delighted he was with one kiss. “Oh, good,” he said through a sigh. “Merry Christmas to me.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo said as he kissed him again.

“Take it to the guest bed, children,” Ana said, poking her head into the room. She was smiling nonetheless, at least until her sharp eyes landed on Hanzo’s hand. “Wait. Is that - Jesse Gabriel McCree!”

“I - what? Ma, _what_ \- ”

The woman started yelling and babbling in Arabic, drawing Gabriel and Jack into the room. When they saw the engagement ring, they too started shouting, half in excitement and half in outrage that they hadn’t been able to witness the tender proposal.

“It’s private!” McCree exclaimed, puffing his cheeks out in a pout.

“It’s a time for celebration!” Gabriel countered. His anger abruptly vanished, leaving him rubbing fiercely at his eyes and sniffling. “My oldest son is getting married! I never thought I’d live to see this day.”

“Hey!” Jesse groused, scowling.

By now the kids had surfaced, drawn downstairs by all the ruckus. “What’s goin’ on?” Lucio asked, a little worried.

Jack smiled at the trio. “Jesse and Hanzo are engaged. Finally.”

At that, the kids shrieked with glee and bound over to the couch, wrenching a loud “oof!” out of McCree as Hana practically jumped on top of him. “Congrats!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “And you’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe he said yes,” Jaime cackled.

“Truly a Christmas miracle,” Lucio agreed, grinning.

“ _Hey_!” McCree snarked again, yelling now. “Okay, that’s it, y’all need to bugger off to bed now or I’m returnin’ all the presents I got for y’all. Don’t think I won’t!”

That had the kids shrieking again and bolting back upstairs, giggling and talking excitedly among themselves about going to a wedding for the first time. Hanzo had no doubts that they would be a part of it one way or another.

A wedding, he thought, growing lightheaded. He was getting married. He said yes. He was legally going to be a part of the family he’d come to call his own.

“That goes for y’all, too,” McCree told the adults, drawing Hanzo out of his gleeful stupor. “I’ll return all the stuff I bought if you don’t lay off.”

“Oh, habibi,” Ana said through a wet sigh as she leaned down to kiss his brow. “You’ve already given us the best present ever.”

“This is Hanzo’s present!” he argued, but didn’t push her away as she moved to kiss Hanzo on his head. “Bless your dumb, stupid hearts.”

“We’re blessed all right,” Gabriel said, letting a snickering Jack pull him towards the stairs. “We also better get blessed with grandbabies at some point, too.”

“ _Dad_ ,” McCree hissed, covering his reddening face with the blanket. He kept muttering and cursing to himself until Hanzo lifted the edge of the blanket and joined him beneath it, cuddling up to him.

“If that was their reaction to missing the proposal, I suppose we shouldn’t elope,” Hanzo offered.

Jesse laughed, sending a burst of warmth across Hanzo’s chest. “They’d do more than just yell at me,” he agreed, grinning. “Though it would be a nice way to get back at them for all this nonsense, huh?”

“So we should start planning for a wedding and then an immediate funeral.”

Jesse laughed again and smooched him. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

Hanzo smiled and closed his eyes, thumbing the ring on his finger. “Merry Christmas, Jesse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me [on tumblr!](vickjawn.tumblr.com)


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